My Private Detective
by Iris Starwind
Summary: Well well, was she ever a classy dame.
1. My Private Detective Ch 1

This fanfic is one that I am most proud of. It was originally meant as an entry for a Sango/Miroku romantic

fanfiction contest, but alas, I failed to meet the deadline. However, I continued to work with it and found that

I was really enjoying myself. The story is set in first person, so it was a little hard to remember to write 'I'

instead of 'he' all the time, but I think it turned out well. I am still working on the story as of Dec. 2004, so who

knows when it might be done. But, the more reviews I get, themore incentive I have to write more, wink wink!

Enjoy!

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My Private Detective Chapter 1

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Well well, was she ever a classy dame.

Striding into my office as if she already owned it, her delicate perfume wafting over my scratched oak desk

and sticking to me like a humid summer night. I quirked an eyebrow at her legs under her beige, knee-length

straight skirt. Set my jaw at the movement under her wispy pink blouse. Studied her perfect hands worrying

over the black clutch purse she carried. Eyed her bottom lip caught under her teeth, eyes darting around

nervously.

A classy, gorgeous, scared to death dame, all right.

"Can I help you?"

My voice broke her out of perusing my bad excuse for an office, and she turned to me slowly, as if afraid

of sudden movement. I felt my throat catch and go dry.

I've always been a sucker for brown eyes.

"Y-yes," she stammered. Her voice seemed to follow the path of her scent, wrapping around my desk and

enveloping me in her presence.

A woman, to be sure.

"I'm afraid for my life... someone's trying to.. to kill me." She fingered a piece of her long dark hair and directed

her statement to my collection of worn murder mysteries on the bookcase.

I sighed; the old cliché yet again.

"Ma'm, I'm not a cop. I don't go chasing after murderers and the like." Not if I want to live to see tomorrow, I

thought ruefully.

I'm a private detective, yes, but I'm also a careful and cautious man. No running around in dark alleys and

sticking your good as dead nose into a murderer's business.

"But, your sign says you're a P.I. Don't you handle things like this?"

I laced my hands together and set my elbows on the desk, stretching my white dress shirt against my back.

Eyes leveled with hers and spoke of no nonsense and weary repetition.

"Yes, I'm a P.I., but I deal mostly in marriage squabbles and disreputable businessmen. I leave murderers where

they belong - to the cops."

How I hated the fright that brightened her coffee colored eyes and stole the color from her cheeks. The office

seemed to suddenly close in on her. I wished I could comfort her.

I also mentally smacked myself. Stupid ass.

The woman's mouth opened and closed, words refusing to surface from her lips.

"Ma'm, I'm sure if you try some other detectives, they'll be glad to help you find your.. uh.. guy."

"I... tried."

Now that startled me. I was sure the other guys would have jumped at the chance to save a pretty maiden in

distress from a terrible fate. Some cocksure young P.I. would want to spend time with this girl.

I had to think about this one. True, I'm pretty cautious about the cases I take on. Angela used to tell me I was

one of those people who had the superman point of view. Probably why she left me, after realizing that a

dedicated P.I. doesn't always save the day.

Private investigation began to look very appealing during that horrible last semester of college, when one

discovers that one doesn't especially like the idea of being stuck as an engineer or doctor for the rest of his

natural born life, and prefers a job that gets one out of bed saying only a few choice words. I changed textbooks,

classmates, and my entire planned out routine to learn the ancient art of snooping. Seemed like fun at the time.

Adventurous and all entrepreneur-like. That was until my girlfriend of the time dumped me for losing all focus and

ambition (though I suspected it was because my yearly pay gross had just dropped 75 percent in her eyes) and I

discovered that being a P.I. was actual work that included digging through garbage and perhaps being shot.

Ah well, I was stuck with it.

Lo and behold, I became a decent P.I. Bought myself office space that was tiny, but affordable and accessible. I

spent loads of money on technical equipment for the well-prepared spy, only to stop using it six months later. I

adjusted to late nights, sleeping at my desk in my dress clothes and jumping from sleep while receiving odd or

threatening phone calls. I even got used to the idea of being a sort of superhero.

I met Angela, dated, and lost her. Went through a few other women, only to be dropped sooner or later for my

lifestyle. Then I had become acquainted with Marisa.

A girl unlike any other, Marisa dropped into my office one day, applied for a secretarial job, and naturally got it.

She was pushy and independent, with a strong mind of her own. Not many knew that she cried during movies,

held herself in her cold, lonely apartment and had a passion for instant ramen. Or that she favored Pepsi over

Coke, adored baby kittens and danced in the park during the rain.

I shifted in my chair, uncomfortable with the way my thoughts were roaming. My collar felt tight like a noose and

I yanked on it impatiently.

"You tried every last one?"

She nodded her glorious head twice, but it didn't fool me. Of course she wasn't telling the whole truth. I knew for

darn sure that Hackner would have accepted the job minute he laid eyes on her.

"And not one would take the job. Seems mighty peculiar to me, no offense."

At least she tried to look indignant, face flushing embarrassingly. The woman took a seat without it being

offered.

"Well, I've tried several, but they told me they were bogged down with other work and didn't have the time or

resources to handle my case."

Ah, so it was money. I would have thought she would be loaded, what with the fancy schmancy duds she had on.

I didn't have a clue about fashion, but I could spot a rich girl's clothes easily.

And that skirt looked ten kinds of wonderful as she crossed her knees in her chair, smoothing out invisible

wrinkles with her hands. No wedding ring.

I needed to get her out of my office and quickly. It had been too long since I'd been with a woman like her.

Walking to the front of my desk, I gave her a no-nonsense look.

"Miss-"

"Sango, please call me Sango."

Lovely name. "Miss Sango, I'd love to help you, but I really don't handle murderers. No bull."

"Please, please at least consider it? I've tried to find someone, but no one will help me! The police won't do

anything until someone gets hurt. I-I don't want to wait until I'm ten feet under to get attention."

Her eyes reminded me of a wild animal caught in a trap, a very dangerous trap. Darting back and forth and

looking everywhere but at me, they tugged unwillingly at my heartstrings.

No, I told myself, I can't help her! It will be exactly like last time!

"I'm very sorry, but-"

P.I.'s pride themselves for always being on the alert, but she took me by complete surprise. The witch who had

already begun casting her spell over me grabbed the starched collar of my shirt and pulled my body to hers,

wrapping her almost bare arms around my sweaty neck and pressing her chest against mine. Awareness shot

through me before a wave of pity followed when she placed her tear soaked face into my chest, shoulders

racking violently with sobs, despair settling around her.

A sudden image of Marisa's fragile, broken body passed over my eyes.

Then the picture became one of this Sango. Meeting the same fate.

"....Ok."

Sango pulled back slowly and stared at me, surprise evident in her red rimmed eyes.

"You'll help me?"

Against my better judgment, I said, "Yes."

And she hugged me yet again, her warm body awakening my own with a sudden violent force.

"Thank you."

I coughed. "You're welcome. When do I start?"

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And so, I had come to know more about the lovely Miss Sango DeVere.

It was out of personal habit and a sense of self protection that I closely examined each of my clients carefully,

learning their moods, their preferences, their sins and everything else that made them who they were. This

proved very helpful when your client turned out to be the one pulling the strings of a crime spree, and not the

innocent person they professed to originally be. Better to get out sooner than end up cold on the floor later.

I had banished all doubts of Sango's innocence early on in the game. She was a tried and true lady, through and

through, all right.

Miss Sango DeVere lived in an upscale apartment complex in the arts district of the city. Her three bedroom,

three bathroom living quarters was expensively furnished, yet cozy, with its family pictures, lit fireplace, various

knick knacks and potted plants. And immaculately clean. I felt like a filthy mongrel in a palace. She had led me

through each room, patiently showing me every available door and window to escape and enter from. An

apartment with thirteen ways to break in. It didn't help that a fire escape began at the first floor and wrapped

itself underneath every window of the place. Good for safety and for malicious wrong-doers. Most of the floors

were of pale marble tile. Easy to hear footsteps on, unless one were to divest themselves of shoes. Carpet in

the bedrooms; way too easy to move about stealthily.

Sango did have a few weapons to work with, thankfully. Plenty of heavy pots and vases, lamps, an umbrella

stand, a metal trashcan, kitchen knives,... she was loaded all right. Only hoped that none would be used

against her.

Sango led me to her bedroom. Soft and decorated in pale shades of pink and neutral tones, it was dominated

by a huge canopied bed that begged to be flopped on, several large armoires that no doubt housed her many

items of clothing, several ancient Japanese prints and a glorious view from no less than four giant floor to ceiling

windows. I would have suggested moving, but was positive she was too strong willed to even consider it.

A long katana sword hung above a dresser and immediately caught my eye. "Ever used that," I asked, nodding

my head in its direction.

"No," she shook her head. "It belonged to my father. He said it was too priceless to ever play with. It was used in

Feudal Japan, so it is quite valuable, which is why I keep it in here."

I nodded my head absently. She may soon be glad of its close proximity.

"Why don't you have any curtains on these windows?"

Her smile was sheepish. "Never really got around to finding window treatments that were big enough for them.

Besides, I enjoy the view at night, so I haven't wanted to obscure it."

I watched her glide over to the windows and with a sigh, look out into the night. The view was beautiful due to

the building's location on a hillside. The rest of the city lay stretched out like a carpet below, thousands of lights

twinkling.

Sango's a view unto herself, I admitted. My eyes looked over her small form, and my hand twitched of its own

accord, aching to touch her. Reflexively, I shifted it behind my back and took my eyes from her long legs.

Of course, we were in her bedroom, of all places.

Without waiting, I exited through the door and went to the kitchen, grabbed all of the kitchen knives and stuffed

them in the back of a cabinet, away from view. Heck, I even removed the blade from her mechanical grater and

let it lie with its sharp cousins in the cabinet. I knelt and gathered all poisonous chemicals from under the sink

and shut them in the pantry, behind a large stack of canned goods.

"You have way too many things in here, you know," I said, knowing Sango was watching me from the counter

bar as I put her matches away.

"I know.."

"And I'm just trying to be extra cautious."

"I know."

I glanced her way and my heart lurched at the sad expression her eyes held as they stared at the counter.

"Hey.." Walking over, I placed my hands on the bar. "It's ok, everything's still here, just put away in a safer place."

"I-I know," She set her jaw in anger but her eyes flickered with fear. "I just hate having to safe-proof my own

home to protect myself. This - it's - just crazy, I've never had to do anything like this before. It's just too surreal."

And I knew it was time for the whole truth to come out.

"Come sit in the living room, I think it's time you told me everything about your.. friend."

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Horrifyingly aware, I was, of the presence of a male in my very feminine apartment. Miroku's scent was every-

where, and it scared and excited me. I was pathetic.

Of course, Miroku was very handsome, at least, in my opinion. His brown slacks and white shirt were wrinkled

from being worn for so long, and his black hair was mussed from the brown hat he wore. I had loved watching

his hands run quickly through it when he had removed his hat at my doorstep. He was so old-fashioned,

and it was adorable.

It seemed to me that Miroku was trying too hard to exude 'Private Investigator'. Unless he really dressed up

every single day for his job the way he was clothed now. In my mind, I had just assumed that P.I.'s wore

whatever they wanted to nowadays, since they did not spend much time in the company of others.

I didn't mind Miroku's choice of clothing. The clothes made the man, and this man was certainly made well.

Hard muscle worked beneath his shirt as he sat himself in my cream colored chair, dwarfing it entirely. He did

not bother to cross his legs, as if he waited to jump up at any second, and his worn hands sat lightly on the arms

of the chair, waiting for sudden action. His tan skin seemed to darken in the shadow, and his midnight blue eyes

glittered, studying me intently and waiting for me to speak. I tried hard not to stare at his full lips that gave

him a boyish quality, but found my eyes drawn to them like a magnet. Would they feel as soft as they looked?

I gave myself a mental shake and my eye caught the silver-framed picture on the fireplace mantle.

Oh, Kohaku, what would you do?

Guess my change of expression caught Miroku's eyes, because he immediately asked, "Who's that?".

"Kohaku," I managed to choke out. "My younger brother."

"Is he away?"

"No.. he's.. dead."

Miroku studied the picture for a moment, then looked at me sympathetically. "You two looked a lot alike. I'm

sorry for your loss."

My hands clenched the blanket lying beside me on the loveseat. "Thank you. It's been several years, but it still

feels like yesterday."

Silence stretched out between us and I could tell that Miroku was lost in thought. He suddenly gazed at me with

those stunning eyes of his, though they had hardened somewhat.

"Could his death have anything to do with...?"

"No!" I shook my head vehemently. "I mean, no, it couldn't possibly have had anything to do with this.. madman.

Kohaku's death was an accident."

"If you don't mind my asking, how did he die?"

"He was in a car accident," I began, staring at the portrait of a grinning sixteen-year-old boy. "Kohaku had just

received his driver's license and our father had left him his dream car. Driving home the first week he had it,

he lost control of the car and he-" I stopped for a second, trying to continue. "-slammed into a brick building at

75 miles per hour."

Tears threatened to spill from my eyes so I quickly turned away, pretending to be interested in the potted palm

beside the coffee table. Without warning, Miroku stood and walked purposefully to the loveseat, folding himself

onto it beside me. One large, warm hand covered my own and I felt like laughing and crying at the same time.

"I'm sorry I brought it up. I tend to be nosy sometimes, and I always end up putting my foot in my mouth." His

smile was infectious.

"It's ok, you are only doing your job," I said, feeling myself smile despite the pain that continued to ache in my

chest.

The comforting hand turned and found my palm, giving it a gentle squeeze of encouragement. I knew what was

coming next.

"I hate to ask, Sango, but I need you to tell me everything you know about this man who's interested in you."

The familiar sensation of fear skittered up my spine, leaving a cold pit of dread in my stomach. My thoughts

changed from a vision of friendly blue eyes to dark eyes full of hatred, from a feeling of safe comfort to one

of naked vulnerability.

From a feeling of being happy and alive, to feeling like an animal being hunted.

I threw myself into verbally recalling the series events from the past few weeks.

"I first noticed the phone calls, which began three weeks back and have continued since. Someone has, and keeps

calling my house every day, whether I'm here or not."

Miroku jumped in. "Could it be a friend or maybe a salesperson?"

I shook my head. "No, I have caller identification, and the calls always come from a payphone in the city, some-

times far from here, and sometimes close by. Whoever it is just breathed into the phone while I talked, which

started to bother me after two days, so I just hung up on them when no one talked to me. That was just the first

week.

The second week, the caller started to laugh at me. The way he laughed.. it was awful, just plain cruel! I started

to get worried, so I called the police and told them about the calls-"

Miroku snorted, his expression showing how he felt towards cops.

"-and they fairly laughed at me too. They said it was probably just a prank caller, and I shouldn't worry about it.

Well, it was too late for that, but then the calls stopped for a few days. So I thought, 'maybe it's over, maybe it

was just a prank call', and started to forget all about it, until just this past weekend.

I had just come inside my apartment with bags of groceries when the phone rang and I picked it up, expecting a

call from my cousin. However, the person on the other end asked me if my father was ok. This startled me, since

my father has been dead for several years-"

"So, when your father left Kohaku his dream car, he had already been dead?" This man was sharp.

"Yes, Kohaku had adored my father's old Alfa Romeo, and when my father died, it went to him."

Miroku nodded, and I could tell he wanted to say more, but held his tongue.

"Anyway," I continued. "I told the caller that my father had passed away sometime ago. There was silence, then

the person asked me how Kohaku was. I remember that I started to shake; not only was he asking me painful

questions, but his voice was strange, it sounded kind of... metallic? Like it was being warped on purpose. I asked,

'Who is this?', and they immediately hung up. The calls have continued this week, and I'm fed up with it."

Miroku uncrossed and recrossed his legs, beginning to look more relaxed in his surroundings. I found that to be

a good sign.

"Are there only phone calls," he asked, staring at me.

I shivered. "Unfortunately, no. I feel like someone has been following me. When I go to work, when I run errands,

everywhere. I get that icy chill up my spine and the urge to run and hide as quickly as possible. And just last night-"

I visibly shuddered, and Miroku frowned. "-someone attacked me as I was walking towards this building.

I had just passed the building next to ours and it was dark outside. I knew I shouldn't have been out, but I had run

out of salt and needed it to cook, so I ran to the store on the corner and was hurrying home when a man grabbed

me from behind and shoved me against the side of the building. He stared at me as if he hated me, his eyes were

so black... and I wanted to throw up because the hand he had over my mouth smelled so horrible. It smelled

rotten. In the back of my mind, I wondered if I was going to be the next random victim of some street psycho,

but the man whispered, 'How's that dear little brother of yours?'. Then he hit me, and the next thing I knew, my

neighbor was helping me up and I had the worst headache of my life."

Leaning over, Miroku slowly tilted me forward, placing his hands gently on the back of my head. Lifting my

hair, he lightly touched the sore spot and the breath hissed out from my closed teeth. It hurt like hell, but his

hands were gentle as they probed the large bump that had surfaced.

He was strangely silent, so I started to babble.

"It's really not as bad as it must look. There was only a tiny bit of blood on it last night and none today, and I have

plenty of aspirin in my medicine cabinet. I took several already this morning .."

Miroku sat back down, his face a mask showing no emotion. I hoped he didn't think I was that much of an idiot.

"So," he began, looking at me intently. "why did you choose me?"

"I already told you that I tried-"

"We both know that's not true, Sango. Do yourself a favor and tell me the truth."

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	2. My Private Detective Ch 2

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My Private Detective Chapter 2

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Sango bit her lip and looked again to the picture in its prominent place on the mantle. She knew what I knew, she

had lied, and that could make any P.I. drop his client in an instant. Trustworthiness was too valuable.

At least she had the guts to admit it, though.

"I chose you because of your reputation."

I raised an eyebrow in her direction. "My reputation?"

Sango nodded slowly and gave me an apologetic look. "The reputation you have from the Walker case."

It was my turn to breathe through my teeth.

She knew about Marisa.

"The papers covered everything. You solved that case so quickly and efficiently-"

"I had to, Sango, a murderer was on the loose."

A nod. "Well, the police certainly weren't a help. It seemed, to me at least, that they slacked off, letting that

killer fool them seven times in two months."

The painful memories started to tighten my chest. "Yes, they did slack off." I didn't know what else to say. I had

avoided discussing the instance until now.

I was surprised that it didn't hurt as much as I had thought it would. Maybe it was this woman, but the pain began

to fade as quickly as it had come.

"That's why I went to you for help. I thought, after last time..."

Anger, swift and deadly, emerged. "You thought that I would feel too guilty to let another innocent woman die?"

Sango's eyes widened and her hand flew to her throat. "No, no! That's not what I meant at all! I simply thought

that with your experience you could help me."

I nodded, still mad and disbelieving.

The moment of silence was broken by a soft, "Mrew?".

"Oh, Kirara honey, come here."

A small cat that looked to be himalayan or siamese leapt onto Sango's lap and gave him a wary look.

Guess it's not used to strangers.

"This is Kirara," Sango explained, stroking the cat with her long fingers and polished nails. "Kirara, this is Miroku."

The cat, as if understanding human language, daintily stepped over to me and sniffed my hand, blinking at me

curiously. Miracle upon miracles, she crawled onto my lap, curled herself into a ball and closed her eyes.

"She must really like you. Kirara's not usually this open to strangers."

I felt myself smile slightly as my hand was drawn to the cat's silky fur and I began to stroke her, her purr calming

me slowly. Maybe it is true, what the experts said about animals being therapeutic.

Before my mind could become too relaxed, I dove back into the matter at hand.

"Could you identify your attacker if you saw him again?"

The light in Sango's eyes dimmed. "I'm not sure. It was so dark in the alley, and it all happened so fast. All I can

really remember are his eyes. They were so dark and horrible and full of hatred. Oh, and the smell that seemed

to surround him, I can't forget that."

"Were there any other incidents besides that attack," I asked, rubbing Kirara's ears.

I could tell that she was reluctant to answer, and the fact that she still didn't trust me stung.

"You might as well tell me, Sango. I'll find it out sooner or later, and the sooner the better."

Her eyes widened, but she lost the look of being ill at ease, and relief settled into her features.

"You're scary, you know. I've never known someone who was so intuitive before." Sango smiled slightly, looking

from my face to her sleeping cat.

"In my line of work," I said, giving her a pointed look. "it pays to see what people don't tell us." A gentle threat

underscored my words. Neither of us could afford to hide anything.

With a resigned look on her lovely face, Sango got straight to the point. "I've had problems with my car. Serious

problems." Her eyes were immediately drawn to Kohaku's picture. "I take my car to be checked every month, just

to be on the safe side. I don't know a thing about cars myself, so I take my Jeep to a garage a block from here,

to a place owned by Michael Kensington, who was an old friend of Kohaku's. He checks my Jeep himself every

month, and makes any necessary repairs. I took the car to him three days ago to be checked and took a cab for a

quick shopping trip, and when I returned, Michael was quiet, studying the Jeep closely. When I asked him what

was wrong, he asked me if I had driven the Jeep to him myself. Of course I had, and I told him so, and his face

was tight, frowning. Michael told me that someone had tampered with my brakes, and had I driven the Jeep any

further, the ruined brakes would have given way completely." Sango shuddered, hugging herself. "I could have

died if I had gone anywhere but there that day. There's no way my brakes could have been so badly damaged

unless someone had done so deliberately. Who hates me so much that they wish me dead, Miroku?" Her eyes

held mine, pleading as her arms continued to hug her body. "Why don't they just come break into my house and

kill me? Are they hiding outside right now, just waiting?!" Head bent, she shook, tears spilling from her eyes.

"Sango," Kirara jumped from my lap as I stood, heart wrenching at the sight of Sango crying in fear, reminding

me of a little girl. Before I could stop myself, I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her to my chest, wanting

to shield her so badly from the uncertainty and pain she felt. The deal with her car was too much of a coincidence.

Someone did want her dead, and that someone knew just how to bring her to the brink of terror.

She had slid her arms around me and buried her face in my shirt, her tears soaking through and sticking to my

skin. All thoughts of the stalker left my mind and the only thing I knew was that I had to comfort this woman.

Sango was beautiful, but she was also brave, spirited, kind, funny, lonely, and scared. She reminded me so much

of Marisa in that moment, that the air stilled in my lungs. This girl needed me.

Her sobs continued, her body shaking violently against mine. Glancing down at her head, her dark hair swayed

softly and I kissed it. My lips found the crown of her head and lingered there, murmuring gentle words of

reassurement. As her eyes lifted to meet mine, I placed my lips on her forehead, hoping to take her mind off

what could have been just mere days before. Before I had even known she existed.

And before I realized it, my lips were on hers. Whether it was from seeing the torture Sango was going through,

the pent up desire that had arisen the first time I laid eyes on her, or both, I kissed her with a depth of feeling that

I had never experienced before. And she was kissing me back.

Her mouth was even softer than I had imagined, her lips sweet with a hint of the tea she had earlier. A groan

escaped her as she pressed more closely against me, her chest against mine, her skirt brushing against my

hip, enveloping me completely in her scent. The fact that she wanted me as much as I desired her intoxicated me,

pressuring me to lose control completely as I guided her to the couch, settling her body beneath mine.

Sango didn't seem to notice, her lips locked with mine. She opened them and the kiss deepened, the intensity of

it shocking, exciting and a little bit scary. I wound my hands through her hair, amazed at how soft it was, sliding

through my fingers like silk. I could feel Sango's hands moving down the front of my shirt, unbuttoning it

hurriedly, and a heady rush filled me, pressing my body against hers, deeper into the couch cushions.

Who knows how far or long it would have gone if we hadn't been interrupted.

A set of four claws kneaded into my back, bringing me back to reality with a shock. What the hell was I doing?!

I had almost... and with a client!

As quickly as I could without falling on her, I rose from the couch and pulled Kirara from my back, placing her

on my shoulder and backing away from Sango. I was hot, so hot, and I knew my face had to be red and sweaty.

And, heaven help me, I could still taste her mouth on mine.

Sango's eyes were dazed as she looked up at me, my sudden disappearance bringing her out of her reverie. And

just as it had hit me, reality set in and her eyes widened, bringing an attractive blush to her already heated face.

Yanking her clothes back into place, she sat up and averted her eyes, embarassed and slightly disappointed.

I felt the immediate need to apologize. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that." I felt like I had used her.

"No," she said, brushing her hair back with a shaking hand. "it was just as much my fault as yours. No need for you

to apologize."

My brain screamed at me for making such a mistake, but my heart protested. Just as I controlled myself to stand

away from her, silently berating myself, a side of me longed to pull her into my arms again and continue where

we had left off, shutting that darn cat in another room.

Our eyes met, silently studying each other. Our entire situation had just changed; our relationship shifted. We

could never go back from here.

"I should go." Without waiting for a reply I gathered my hat and opened the door.

"Lock up well, ok? I'll see you tomorrow."

She turned and I reassured her once more.

"Nothing's going to happen tonight, I promise."

I didn't add that I would be outside her apartment building, sleeping in my rundown Buick. Some things were

better left unsaid. I quietly shut the door and hurried down the stairs, feeling colder with every step I took.

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_His eyes were so beautiful. They stared at me, love radiating from them as he walked across the dark room._

_I knew he was going to climb onto the bed beside me; my body screamed for him to join me and to kiss all _

_of my fears away._

_Slowly, torturingly so, he removed his shirt, revealing the tan muscles beneath that moved with him. I felt_

_a gasp escape my throat; he was so, so beautiful._

_Walking with purpose, he approached, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. The night would be a long,_

_glorious one._

_His bare chest leaned towards me and his head lowered, lips seeking mine. A hand curved around my head,_

_supporting me before I could faint from desire._

_And he stopped. His lips did not kiss mine. Instead, they opened in a wide O of shock._

_A long knife glittered in his chest. Blood erupted from his mouth, falling onto my nightgown in a spray._

"NNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!"

I sat up in bed, utterly and absolutely terrified.

It was a dream, just a dream. Yet, it had seemed so horribly real.

Tears stained my face, making strands of my hair stick to my cheeks. I must look awful.

I forced myself to get out of bed, slide into my slippers and walk across the carpet towards the bathroom. My

reflection in the mirror over the sink confirmed my suspicions. I looked like hell.

Leaning down, I turned the faucet and began to splash water on my face, the cooling sensation calming me some-

what.

Of course it had just been a dream. Miroku was fine; more than fine.

He was incredible.

My body reacted at the memory of what had happened. I wondered if my lips were still slightly swollen from his

kisses. I glanced up at the mirror.

And I heard a horrified gasp; my own.

Kohaku stared back at me in the mirror.

His young face looked sad and lonely, not like the Kohaku I always remembered. Happiness did not shine in this

boy's young face.

I must be losing my mind, I told myself. Or maybe, I'm still dreaming, asleep in my bed.

As if reading my thoughts, Kohaku approached, hand outstretched towards my shoulder, and I saw my reflection's

eyes widen in terror.

Blood began to ooze from Kohaku's temple, dripping down from his bangs. Pain crossed his eyes and his mouth

opened as if calling for help.

A cold chill filled the bathroom and I screamed.

Turning quickly, I ran into the bedroom, looking back to see if he was following.

There was no Kohaku. The clean, white bathroom gleamed in the light I had turned on. No blood on the floor.

I didn't dare walk back in there to check the tub. Slamming the door, I jumped onto my bed, huddling underneath

the covers like a kid scared of the dark. I finally fell into a fitful sleep as the sun began to shine in the windows,

bathing me in a warm, safe feeling.

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Yawning loudly, I leaned against a red Honda as I waited for the man to approach. I didn't even try to hide the

fact that I had not slept, I knew it was obvious from my disheveled clothes, red eyes and bad mood.

As soon as the sun had risen and people began to walk the city sidewalks, I drove my Buick to Mike's Body

Shop, a block away from Sango's. To my surprise, mechanics were already at work on several cars as I

approached and asked for Mike himself. A gruff guy by the name of Stan went to find Mike in his office, giving

me a suspicious look over his shoulder. What, did he think I'd swipe a car?

As Mike Kensington approached, my eyes made a quick assesment of the man. Tall, with work roughened hands,

shaggy blonde hair and hard gray eyes, he had movie star looks that I knew most girls would drool over. His eyes

were cautious, and I knew trust was hard to earn with Mike. However, he seemed friendly enough as he shook

my hand, and I forced myself not to wince at his overly tight grip.

"I'm Mike, can I help you?"

I showed him my card and his yellow eyebrows rose in surprise. "Let's go to my office where we can talk."

I followed him up a short flight of stairs to a narrow room crammed full of books, papers and auto parts that I

couldn't even begin to recognize. A tepid cup of joe sat on top of a stack of auto magazines that portrayed

scantily clad women draping themselves over tricked out vehicles. A few old racing trophies sat on a shelf over

the window, collecting dust. Various invoices for parts and customer bills were scattered over the small desk.

"Please, sit," Mike said, shoving a box of parts off a chair and onto the floor. He gestured for me to sit down as

he took the chair in front of the computer and crossing his legs, he gave me a serious, worried look.

"This is about Sango, isn't it?" The man cut to the chase and I respected him for it.

My nod was brief. "Tell me about her car."

A window that looked out and into the garage was behind Mike's desk and he pointed out a white Jeep Grand

Cherokee stuck between a Lexus and a pickup. "That's hers. Couldn't believe the damage done to the brakes

when I opened 'er up. Someone knew what they were doing."

"So, this was done by a professional?"

Mike held two fingers under his chin, thinking. "Not necessarily a pro, but someone with extensive knowledge

of cars. The way the brakes were handled, they allowed Sango to drive a short distance before losing control of

the vehicle. If they had been completely disabled, Sango wouldn't have been able to drive at all, and wouldn't have

gone out in the Jeep. But, they allowed her to drive here. If she had driven any further, say, two or three blocks,

I'm positive the brakes would have given and she would have had serious trouble. Pulling off the trick with her

brakes like that... that's someone smart."

While he talked, I studied Mike more closely. If what he said was true, a professional mechanic, such as Mike

himself, could have done the job. Did Mike have a grudge against Sango or her family? Sango did mention that

he had been an old friend of Kohaku's. Maybe he had a thing for Sango? Maybe she had rejected him?

I didn't want to think that Sango could have had a thing going with Mike Kensington, but it was a possibility. He

was a good looking guy who couldn't have been much younger than Sango, maybe even the same age. But, the

thought of Mike with his arms around Sango sickened me.

She's not yours anyway, so why do you feel so jealous, I asked myself.

"Was there any other damage to the Jeep," I asked Mike, glancing at the car in the garage.

Mike shook his head. "None at all, just the brakes. I would have thought that if someone really wanted to screw

up her car, they would have done more, but whoever it was must have been pretty confident that the brakes would

handle the job well enough."

I nodded. That made sense; most psychos were pretty confident in what they did.

In any case, Mike had given me all the information I needed, and it was time for me to leave.

Sango would be getting up some time soon.

"Thanks for your help, Mr. Kensington," I said, standing and shaking the taller man's hand. As I started to walk

through the glass office door, Mike's words stopped me.

"Please, take care of Sango, willya? She's one of the good ones.. ya know? I'd hate to see someone like her..."

His meaning was clear.

"Don't worry, I will."

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I pulled a knife from the back of the cabinet and began to chop potatoes. I had to do something with my hands,

or else I would go crazy with fear and worry.

Just where _was_ he anyway?

Miroku hadn't shown up yet. Did he not say he'd be here today? Here it was, nearly noon, and no sign of him.

And, as if by magic, the phone rang.

Picking it up, I quickly blurted out, "Hello, Miroku?"

Silence.

Oh, no...

"Having a bit of car trouble, are we?"

Panic caused the bile to rise in my throat and I began to tremble violently. This psychopath had riddled me to a

quivering mass of fear.

"Who-Who are you? What do you want with me?"

Malicious laughter echoed across the wires.

"Now, I don't want to ruin the surprise for you, my dear. You'll just have to wait for that wonderful day to come."

He talked as if it were a party, and I was the guest of honor. I felt my face go white.

"But, why?"

"Goodbye."

"Wait-" It was too late, he had already hung up, and the dial tone repeated itself in my ear. Shaking, I replaced the

receiver, only to have it jangle immediately in its holder. Biting back a scream, I picked it up, mute. Relief

poured over me at the familiar voice.

"Hello? Sango, are you there?"

"Yes, I-I'm here, Miroku."

"What's wrong" his voice became tense. Was my voice that obvious? I hadn't thought so.

"He called."

Silence.

"Miroku?"

"I'll be right there," was his terse reply before he hung up. A wave of gratitude for this man and the safe feeling

he had given me throbbed in my chest. Miroku was coming, everything would be allright.

I walked into the living room to wait for him. As I moved towards the couch, a shadow fell over the pale

cushions. My eyes followed the dark form to the sliding glass doors leading out to the balcony, and my heart

stopped.

The shadow stood in the open door to the balcony, a cellphone in hand and a smile behind his ski mask.

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	3. My Private Detective Ch 3

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My Private Detective Chapter 3

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Poor Sango, I thought, backing out of the Body Shop's parking lot. The old Buick turned with a groan and joined

the traffic on the street. Driving towards Sango's apartment, I marveled at the fact that Sango had come to me

only three days ago. I had met her Wednesday night in my office, then had researched her on Thursday, not seeing

her at all. Then the incident in her apartment last night, and now, today, Saturday, I was driving over to see her.

Funny, it had seemed as if I had known her for so many years, yet we had known each other for days.

Again, I thought, poor Sango. She lived by herself in such a large apartment, and I knew she was lonely. Unlike

most of the wealthy set in town, she did not go out much, it seemed. From what I had discovered about her

Thursday, she was as much of a recluse as I was.

Sango DeVere had been born rich, naturally. Her childhood appeared to have been a carefree, happy one by the

society papers. Her parents were well known people, throwing parties every month, donating to various

charities and always making friends with politicians. And the young Sango had been taken along for the ride.

I braked quickly at a red light, ignoring the horn blast from the car behind me. I was too lost in thought.

Sango's mother died at the tender age of 37 from pneumonia. The funeral had been lavish and well publicized, her

mother having been a large influence in society. Sango and Kohaku were, of course, devastated with

their mother's death. Their father had thrown himself into work with a ferocity that many pegged as an outlet for

his grief. It was a well-known fact that he owned and was the head of a huge manufacturing company that had

once been a few decrepit buildings making next to nothing as far as profits went. He had bought it and had

turned it into the huge corporation that it still was today.

I made a right turn, nearing the apartment complex. Many had questioned Sango's father's business dealings in the

past. Some said he trampled those weaker than him and made powerful allies with people who were less than

reputable. Corruption within the company and illegal transactions were rumored. Could any of that have a part in

this?

There were so many factors, yet I had no clue, and it frustrated the hell out of me.

After her father's and brother's deaths, Sango virtually disappeared. The vice-president of the company took over

and Sango only took part in running the company occassionally, and usually from her apartment. From time to

time, she donated to charities, but never went to any society functions. Apparently, she was happiest at home,

away from the rest of the world.

I turned the Buick into the parking lot that faced Sango's building. One thing was for sure, I had to find out

more about Sango's past, and more about the family business.

Stepping out of the car, I glanced up at Sango's apartment, shielding my eyes from the sun's harsh rays.

Wait, why was her balcony door open?

I squinted, trying to be sure, but I knew it was open, and I had specifically told her to lock up. So why was she-?

Two shadows drifted across the polished glass, and I felt as if I had been punched in the gut. Please, no.

He was in there. The attempted murderer was in the apartment with Sango.

For a moment, my legs felt as if they had lost all feeling, but it quickly returned as I made a frantic dash for the

building's double front doors. Shoving them open, I nearly knocked over several people, but I didn't care. I

had to get to Sango, and quickly.

Ignoring the shouts around me and bypassing the crowded elevators, I ran up the stairs with all the strength I had.

My pulse pounded in my ears, drowning out everything except for the unbelievable rage I felt towards this man

who would cause Sango harm. Forget reasoning; I was going to kill him when I saw him.

Pushing the side of my dress coat open, I pulled my long handgun from its holster. The weight felt good in my

hand, only fueling my anger at Sango's attacker. Only two more flights to go.

I prayed that Sango would be okay. The monster up there would kill her, that much I knew. Whether it would be

today would soon be resolved. As long as I got there on time, he wouldn't.

But what if I was already too late?

Yanking the stair rail, I practically threw myself up the last flight of stairs and down the hallway to Sango's door.

Reaching, I shoved my shoulder against it, feeling it begin to buckle under my weight.

A scream echoed through the apartment.

"Sango, I'm coming!"

I heaved my full weight onto the door, and it buckled, but refused to open. Damnit!

I backed up against the opposite wall and ran full force into the door with my shoulder. Pain rocketed through

my arm, but the door flew open to reveal Sango against the wall by her fireplace, mortal terror in her face.

A huge man in dirty jeans and a blue sweatshirt hovered in front of her, a sickening gleam in his eyes,

the rest of his face shielded by a dark ski mask, a long hunting knife balanced against Sango's delicate white

throat. Sango cowered against the wall, shaking and begging for her life.

The rage I felt burst inside my brain, and I raised my gun.

"GET AWAY FROM HER!"

The man turned towards me, but I saw his knife move as well. Sango let out gasp of pain and I didn't hesitate for

a second.

The shot rang out.

Blood spattered against Sango, and her screams increased.

The knife fell from the masked man's hand as he grabbed his arm with a yell, the bullet having gone through his

elbow. Without warning, he ran for the balcony.

I shot again, aiming for the man's legs, but he was too far. Running, my pistol was outside the balcony door, but

he was already down the emergency stairs, running for a dark sedan across the street. I shot again, but the bullet

only bounced off the trunk of the car as it squealed away, pealing down the street at breakneck speed. Damnit!

Breathing heavily from the aftermath of the adrenaline rush, I went to Sango, who had fallen to the floor,

clutching the picture of Kohaku to her chest. A fine line of red dripped from her neck and mixed with the tears

that had fallen on her shirt.

"Sango." I knelt beside her and she flinched.

"Sango, it's okay, it's me. He's gone."

With a wail, she grabbed my arm and held on for dear life. I gently eased the picture from her hands and returned

it to the mantle, wiping the blood from the glass. Pulling Sango to her feet, I realized that one of her neighbors

stood in the doorway, mouth open in shock.

"Call an ambulance," I ordered, holding Sango to me with my good arm. "Now."

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The police had taken my statement and promised that they would get to work on finding my stalker immediately.

I only wished that they would, but I didn't believe they could. Miroku was the only one who could help me now.

My rescuer sat in the worn hospital chair by the door to my room, as if waiting to pounce on anyone who dared

enter. With his head propped against the wall, he looked exhausted, but he refused to sleep. Arms crossed, his

blue eyes kept a silent watch over everything, mouth set in a grim line of determination. With a barely noticeable

wince of pain, he uncrossed his arms, slowly placing his left on the armrest of the chair.

I had noticed he was favoring his left arm somewhat, and now I knew it was hurting him badly.

"What happened to your arm?"

Barely looking at me, he quietly replied, "It's nothing."

"I know it's hurting you Miroku, so get a doctor to look at it while we're here."

"My arm's not broken, so I don't need to see a doctor."

He was so stubborn. Thinking back, I remembered Miroku running through the broken door of my apartment,

and I figured he must have hurt it while breaking it down.

Miroku had nearly broken his arm trying to save me. I felt tears prick behind my eyes. I owed him my life.

Looking at him, I let the tears fall. I had thought that I could not cry anymore, not with the hours I had cried

after being rescued. Miroku had been a wall of strength, staying by my side in the ambulance; beside me while

my neck wound was cleaned and bandaged; right there while the police questioned me exstensively.

The tears continued. "Miroku, thank you."

His eyes shifted to mine, and I caught the pain that flashed in them. "You don't have to thank me, I was just doing

my job."

"No," I continued, shaking my head as much as the pain would allow. "You saved my life tonight, and there's no

way I can thank you enough. You didn't have to hurt yourself to rescue me, or stay by me when I needed you, but

you did, and you can't tell me that it was because of your job. It was because of your heart that you did." And my

heart responded to the words I had spoken, revealing to my brain that I felt more for this man than I had ever

realized. He had become more than a stranger, and much more than my private detective. Without warning, this

kind, caring, courageous man had broken through my defenses and made a place in my heart, causing it to skip a

beat every time he was near, every time I thought of him. Looking at him now, I felt the familiar flutter. I had

come to care for him more than I had cared for any other man, and in such a short time. I thanked God for

bringing Miroku into my life, if even under such horrible circumstances. I was aware now that I could fall in love

with this man.

But, what if he didn't feel anything for me? If the kiss the other night had indicated anything, he did care.

The emotions in his kiss and in his touch were too tangible to deny. He had needed me as much as I needed

his comfort. He had wanted me so much; but that need in his eyes had said volumes.

His past was unknown, but something had caused that sadness behind that need, and I wanted to know what it

was. I wanted to heal him as he had healed the sadness in my own heart.

Miroku continued to stare at me from across the room and I wondered what he was thinking. Barely a sentence

had passed between us since earlier, and so he had been left to lose himself in thoughts unknown.

"I'm glad you're okay," came his quiet voice, breaking my train of thought.

I smiled softly. "I'm glad too."

Could I fall in love? Maybe I already had.

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Danger is everywhere, whether anyone wants to recognize its existence or not. It lurks in the most innocent of

places, and in the most sinister. The shadows conceal the danger, cloaking it in a mask of darkness so thick, one

cannot breathe. Sunlight dances over it, disguising it in a honest truth that could confuse the brightest of men.

Danger was crouched in an alley across from the city hospital, nursing its wound.

"Damn you to hell, both of you!" Spit flew from my mouth to the damp pavement at my feet. The arm hurt so bad,

I hoped I would be able to use it as well as I always had.

Yes, I am awfully good with my hands. Awfully good. It was a piece of cake, prying that cold, metal bullet from

the tender flesh of my elbow, watching the blood drip, drip down my arm, cleansing the cut. I had begun this

day thinking of how wonderful it would be to see that girl's pure red blood in my hands, smell its bitter smell,

feel the slickness between my fingers, run it through her hair. Now look at me, sitting in a filthy alley, just waiting to

catch a glimpse of her or that asshole of a detective who guards her like a doberman. She should be lying cold on

a table in the morgue, not in the warm safety of a hospital! I spat again, the anger causing spots of red to sway in

my vision. I wanted to feel the blood, smell it. Only then would I know that they were all gone, every one of them.

They had torn my life to shreds, and now it was their turn.

One girl stood in my way. Leaning back against the dirty red brick wall I smiled as I held my arm, the sounds

of screams and the images of terror, and most especially blood, racing through my head.

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I smelled it everywhere, through the entire, sterile hospital, in my Buick, and in Sango's own, once safe apart-

ment. The intruder had touched everything in Sango's surroundings with a warning, a black mark of danger. It was

all tainted; there's no way she would be able to sleep tonight.

After the ER doctor had announced that Sango was free to go home, with strict instructions to be careful with her

bandaging, her face had gone white, her lips had thinned, and her eyes had grown dark. She hardly spoke a word

to me in the car ride home, though, I had tried to reassure her.

"This guy won't be paying you another visit anytime soon, not with increased security at the apartments. I already

called a friend of mine, great guy.. very discreet, and he's seen to it that your place is cleaned and back to normal.

The carpet's already been scrubbed, Kirara fed..."

I continued to babble, hoping to draw some sort of reaction out of Sango, anything to confirm that she was still

with me, but I got nothing. Her drawn face stared down at her lap, hands clenched on a bottle of pain pills from

the doctor, eyes fighting back tears. It felt like an invisible hand had reached through my chest and strangled my

heart.

"I talked to Mike a short while ago too. He says the Jeep's good to go, so we can pick it up whenever we want.

He said to just give him a call, and he'll drive over and let us in the garage. He's a nice guy, Mike. He..."

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Poor Miroku, he was trying so hard to distract me.

But it was no use, when the doctor had told me I could go home, my brain froze, I could feel the cold, numb

feeling spreading through my head like fingers. The hospital was safe.. it was crowded, well lit, and very big. I

could have hidden in that building forever. But my apartment was isolated, lonely and dark. I could hear my

screams from earlier echo in my head and prayed that they were not a premonition of things to come.

"... so, it will only take us a few minutes to get there, if traffic stays like this. And then, just five or so minutes

more to get everything. We'll both go in, even though the parking lot's well-lit."

What on earth was he talking about? The scenarios that I imagined greeting me at my apartment door had

completely drowned out what Miroku was saying. I lifted my head for a quick glance out the dark window, and

had no idea where I was.

"Where are we going?"

Miroku turned and gave me a worried look, the street lamps reflecting the concern in his eyes.

"We're going to my place, so I can pick up a few things."

I wasn't following him, and he realized it too.

"I'm sleeping on your couch tonight."

Such a simple statement, to make my heart start pounding out a frantic drum beat. The sexual tension between us

was already strong enough without having to sleep in same apartment, with only a door dividing us. Mental

images of our little tryst on the couch from the other day invaded my thoughts. Miroku would be resting on that

same sofa tonight.. would he think of the other day as he lay there?

A quick look in his direction confirmed the answer I was seeking. His face was a blank stare, watching the road

carefully. Of course Miroku would not be thinking of our kiss, he was too professional to let something like that

distract him. The kiss was meaningless to him; an accident brought on from the heat of the moment. Maybe he

thought it was the only way to calm my fears. Maybe he thought I was easy, letting him take advantage of the

situation without any 'no'. Maybe Miroku didn't really like me at all.

_"You don't have to thank me, I was just doing my job."_

I squeezed my eyes shut. Perhaps I had been reading too much into Miroku's actions and making my own, false

interpretations. And maybe the whole attack today was my fault, since I have been practically throwing myself at

Miroku, distracting him from doing his job.

_"... just doing my job."_

I made a pact with myself, right there in that car, at that moment. I would be friendly to Miroku, but only in a

cordial, polite way. No more clinging to him, no more crying in front of him, and most especially no more

kissing him.

The thought gave me a sense of loss, as if something vital had been taken from my body. But, it was for our own

good, both of us. We had to be alert at all times, not caught up in some little affair.

I had already begun to fall for Miroku, and I knew what I wanted was no 'little affair'. I wanted the real deal from

this man.

I could do this, no problem.

Staring out the window, a memory of my father came to me. I had been ten or so, and Kohaku had been crying;

bullies had teased him on the bus for having a stuffed bear in his backpack. The look of hurt on Kohaku's

young face had eaten at me, and, furious, I had stood over the bullies and given them a piece of my little girl

mind. My father hugged me later at our house, after consoling Kohaku with cookies and a new toy.

_"You are going to be a very strong woman as you grow older, my Sango." He patted her braid, smiling _

_with fatherly pride._ _"Today, you stood up for what you thought was right, and that takes a lot of _

_confidence in yourself. I'm so proud of you."_

Such a small, quick memory, but it had left a lasting impression on me, or so I had thought. Have I forgotten

how to stand up for myself? I've felt so alone since losing my father and Kohaku, did I lose faith in all of my

abilities?

And when?

Regardless, it was time for the old Sango to come out. I owed it to Miroku, and most especially, to myself.

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And so I continued, for three days straight, to bump my head against the invisible walls that Sango had thrown

up around herself. For three days, we conversed politely, in a very detached manner. For 72 hours, I had to

work, eat, and breathe in a Sango-filled environment. And for three very long nights, I slept on the other side of

Sango's bedroom door. Pure heaven and pure torture at the very same time. My body was so alert of her every

move, that I had trouble doing anything straight. Straight. I groaned and shifted in my seat as Sango glided past in

a very flattering white dress, just like an angel.

Mentally berating myself, I continued typing away on my laptop. I had to concentrate on organizing all of the

facts in this case, or die trying. Literally.

Situations such as Sango's were a P.I.'s nightmare. Random attacks, a smart bad guy, and plenty of suspects,

with no clues to pinpoint one. Well, one clue; it was a man.

My thoughts wandered back to that night, wading though a path of worry over Sango, and trying to rest on the

attacker. I saw the guy's hands and Sango's throat. Gloves, thick and brown, had hovered near her slim neck. I

tried to recall if I had seen gloves like that before, with their special design on the back, but nothing came to

mind. Let's see... he was wearing a blue sweatshirt.. common.. jeans.. common.. a black ski mask, way too

common.. his shoes.. I imagined a cartoonist penciling in a lightbulb over my head. The man had been wearing

brown, polished, leather (probably Italian) shoes.. those were expensive. So, the man already had money. Maybe

the gloves fit into that as well.

Quickly, I searched through a website that specialized in selling gloves. Scrolling through the pages, I nearly

gave up hope, until a pricey pair of gloves caught my eye. Brown, leather gloves with a large logo on the back

of each hand. Bingo.

'Robinson Co. handmade, tailored to fit hunting gloves'. Now, this was getting interesting.

I gave my photographic memory a mental pat on the back. It only failed me when women were involved.

Sango's attacker was already rich, or being paid very well to try and knock her off. He also did some hunting,

and knew it well enough to buy the very best gloves and a hunting knife for the task. Shit, just what I needed,

someone who knew how to kill from experience.

A reflection of light was dancing in my memory, and I again went back to that night. Was light reflecting off

of Kohaku's picture? No, I didn't think so, it was smaller than that.

I stared at my computer screen, willing myself to remember, the mystery naggling at my brain, but it didn't come

to me. I sighed deeply, some things took time, but I wanted to catch this guy now. Every second that he was out

there, unidentified, was another second that Sango's life was in very real danger.

Closing the laptop, I rose to my feet and stretched, arms reaching towards the ceiling, wincing at the pain in

my left arm. Still sore, geez. Kirara blinked sleepily up at me from the sofa cushion.

"Sorry to disturb your sleep, princess." Leaning over, I stroked her head, her purr music to my ears. Kirara and I

had come to be very good friends and bunkmates. Now, if only her owner and I could do the same; I wouldn't

mind a sleeping Sango on my chest instead of a cat.

Walking into the kitchen, I admired Sango's slim form as she leaned into the fridge, searching through her veggie

drawer. Resisting the urge to lay my hand on her inviting behind, I walked over to the stove, sliding the spatula

through her pan of stir fry, trying to ignore her when she was suddenly beside me, green peppers in hand.

"This smells great."

"Thanks, it's one of the few things I try to cook at least once a week. My one attempt at a health food kick."

Instead of telling her that she had a body that health nuts would die for, I smiled and stirred. I was a coward.

I was scared. Ever since that trip from the hospital, Sango had put distance between us. It was obvious in

the determined set of her jaw and the stiffness of her movements when she was near me. Was she scared of the

chemistry between us? Did I do something to upset her? She hadn't said a word to me in my apartment, so did

I say something wrong in the car? I wondered if she was angry with me for not being there when she was attacked.

Sango had seemed very understanding and grateful at the hospital, but had she changed her mind? Did she hate

me? Standing beside her, there in that kitchen, I suddenly wished those invisible walls were very real and very

solid.

Anything hard to bash my head against would have worked.

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	4. My Private Detective Ch 4

Well, I re-uploaded the first three chapters today after editing out mistakes I saw. If anyone sees another mistake,

I'd love for you to let me know. I'm picky about those things..

I've been listening to music while writing this fic, and I find that it really helps me to jump into the mood of the

story quickly. Songs such as Mozart's "Moonlight Sonata" make me write sad things, and vice versa on other

songs. D.N.Angel's "Fanatic" helps me write as the killer. Muhahaha!

And now I shall respond to reviews that I have received up until 12/19!

-Aamalie- Demand met? Thank you for the lovely review!

-Sperry- I love long reviews! And thank you for giving me an honest critique, it helps. Oh, and the killer

paragraphs are in there to reveal bits about him, here and there.

-KagomeHigurashi66- Thank you for the never ending support!

-Irasuto- Why, thank you. I'm glad you'd buy it! ::grin::

-therockingrollking & Melly- Thank you!

-RavenFireI- Thank you for the offer, but I think I'll do it. Help me try to keep my typing in line, hehe.

-FlamingRedFox- Again, I adore long reviews. I pictured a movie theater when you mentioned that, and

laughed out loud. And yes, I loooove to draw every oozing drop of suspense out of a story.

-Sangi and melissa- Thank you kindly!

And now, back to "My Private Detective". Don't you just hate commercial breaks?

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My Private Detective : Chapter 4

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The sheets were ice cold; the kind of cold you experience when you know that death is lurking in the shadows.

Damnit, since when had all of my thoughts become morbid ones?

Restlessly, I turned onto my left side, admiring the reflection of twinkling lights in the window from the city below.

At least I wasn't the only one awake.

A sigh escaped me, born from pure loneliness. The room was cold, the sheets were cold, everything was cold,

and it was freezing inside. The cold pit in my middle had spread and slowly killed all the warmth inside, turning me

into a robot.

Poor Miroku, I've been so distant, and he has no idea why. But I can't fall for him, not now, not when both of our

lives are at stake. Besides, he sees me as a client, an assignment, a job, and nothing more. Hope you got your fill

of him on that couch the other day Sango, because he's gone now, I thought ruefully.

Biting my lip, I quietly climbed out from under the silk sheets, pulling my beige nightgown back down to my knees.

Just a peek couldn't hurt...

Silent as a mouse, I tiptoed to the door and opened it slowly, spilling a thread of light onto the couch and

illuminating a head of jet black hair resting on the sofa's arm. Knowing I had to see more, I carefully moved

my bare feet towards the couch, passing an end table with a shirt folded carefully on its top. My heart fluttered.

In the dark, Miroku looked dangerous and mysterious, blue highlights shining on his crown and muscles clearly

defined in the shadows. However...

Leaning over for a closer look, I smiled. Like a little boy, he had his arm around Kirara, holding her on his chest

so she wouldn't fall off onto the floor. One arm was hidden under the pillow, helping to support his head. A

blanket, clearly not enough for his long frame, covered him from his hips to ankles, only helping to showcase his

spectacular upper body. Placing my hand into the ray of light coming from the bedroom, I held it over Miroku's

chest, visualizing my own fair skin against his golden masculinity; imagining the ecstasy at feeling his heart beat at

a fast pace, as mine had so many times before.

It clearly wasn't meant to be. Damn the stalker to hell and back!

Miroku began to swim in front of me, and eyes watering, I retreated back to my room, wondering why I

continued to torture myself. Swiping a hand across my cheek, I entered the bedroom and closed the door,

taking a deep breath. Wow, it really is cold in here, I thought, grabbing my robe from the armoire.

And when I turned around, he was there, staring at me.

"..... Kohaku?"

Kohaku stared at me from his place at the foot of the bed, his eyes sad and lonely and lacking all of the light that

existed when he was alive. The teenager I had once known and loved was standing before me again, only this

time as a soul who knew no rest; only death and emptiness. And cold; I shivered under the thick terry cloth robe.

Why was he here? I couldn't be imagining things; I was looking right at him. I couldn't scream for fear that it

would somehow take him away from me. This was my chance to apologize for everything I had not said; not done.

Always tomorrow, tomorrow, I had thought, but there was not a tomorrow for him. There was only past regrets

of things undone and a hug I had not given him on that day.

"Kohaku... I have missed you so much."

He continued to gaze at me with those blank eyes, not acknowledging that he had heard me.

"I want you to know that I love you, Kohaku. You and I were a team... you were what kept me going day after

day in this world. I wish that you could still be here today, and always! Kohaku!"

Sobs suddenly and violently racked through my body, tears soaking my face.

"Damnit, this isn't fair! You should be here instead of me because you deserved it! You deserved to live, Kohaku,

and I would have died for you! I should have been the one in that car! IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN ME!"

"_Sango... no..._"

A gasp escaped my blue lips. That voice, it was exactly the same.

"_... find him, Sango. Find him, please..._"

"Find who? Find who?!"

"_I love you..._"

"Please, no! STAY!"

But he was already gone and the room was warming; the bedroom door opening and the barrel of a gun slipping

through the crack.

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"Sango, it's okay! It's me!"

Being the idiot I was, I had shoved my pistol through the doorway before reassuring Sango that it was me coming

to her rescue, and not the crazy bastard who's hell-bent on seeing her die. But really, what was I supposed to think,

with Sango screaming and crying in her bedroom? I expected, no, I hoped to see that madman in here, so I could

finally lock him up and be done with all of this. And I had no idea why Sango had come in the living room and

stared at me in the darkness, but it had been torture to keep still and silent. Had she been thinking, wondering,

maybe even hoping...?

Now, I stood helplessly watching her fall to pieces, crying her beautiful eyes out.

"What's wrong, Sango? Was he here?" And why is it so damn cold?!

"K..... K-Kohaku!"

"Did you have a nightmare? About Kohaku?"

"He w-was h-here!"

"Sango, it's okay, it was all a bad dream. You're-"

"IT WAS NOT A D-DREAM," she yelled, throwing my arms away.

I frowned, worried that depression, nervousness, or both were really getting to her. Why else would she think that

her dead brother was alive?

"What do you mean 'he was here', Sango?"

"I mean Kohaku was right here, in m-my room!"

"But, Kohaku's-"

"Dead, believe me, I know."

Sango's shoulders stilled and her breathing began a normal rhythm once more, but her lips remained a pale blue

shade. Worried that she may become ill, I looked into her coffee eyes, concerned.

"Sango, maybe you should get dressed, you look like you're freezing. Do you want me to turn the heat up?"

"Don't bother, it will be completely warm again soon."

She was right, of course. I could already feel the air beginning to warm, sliding over my chest. Weird, maybe she

should have someone come check her heating system. I still felt like I had to do something for her, to make her

feel safe again.

"Do... do you want me to stay in here tonight, you know... just in case?"

Her face hardened then, as if she was mad at me for the offer. Maybe I misunderstand women more than I

thought, because anger was the last thing I expected.

"I can take care of myself, Miroku. Please, just go. Go home if you want to."

"Why the hell would I go home? I'll go back in the living room, but I am not leaving this apartment tonight."

"This is MY apartment, and if I want, I can kick you out of here any time I want to!"

"There's no chance in hell that I'm leaving."

"I employed you, and I can fire you whenever I feel like it!"

"Then I'll stay here because it's my civil duty!"

"Not if I say you can't!"

I was growing more confused, and weary, by the second. Why were we fighting over this? Was she forgetting

why I was here? Didn't she realize that she was an easy target in this apartment?

"Goodnight, Sango. I'm going back to the living room now." Carrying my gun, I closed the door quietly behind

me, wondering what it was she threw at the door that made such a loud noise on impact.

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The clouds could no longer hold themselves together, and at precisely fifteen minutes after noon, they burst,

spilling a cold and violent rain that lashed against the windows of the apartment. Somehow, it seemed very fitting.

I had done nothing but sit in my room pretending to read the newspaper, too tired and weak-hearted to do much

of anything. I couldn't go into the living room or I would risk running into Miroku, and after last night, I was afraid

to look him directly in the eyes. I had insulted him and the work he did; I would be furious in his shoes.

Miroku had been avoiding me as well; head bent over his laptop, not even glancing my way when I dared to walk

into the room. I wondered what he was doing on there, but I resisted the urge to peek over his shoulder. He

probably thought I was crazy or overly stressed or both, thinking I had seen my dead brother when of course,

everyone knows that ghosts don't exist. I had believed that as well, but what was I to think when Kohaku really

did show up in my room? He was no hologram or illusion, Kohaku's eyes had gazed into mine, and his voice had

resounded in my ears, and my thoughts, ever since last night.

Noticing that the sheet of paper I had been holding was now torn to shreds, I picked up a new page, glancing at

the advertisement for cheap tourist traps.

And that's when I had the idea to leave... just go. If I were to leave, the psycho wouldn't find me, and Miroku

wouldn't have to take care of me anymore. No one would know where I had gone, and I could be all alone to

sort through my thoughts. No more guns, no more knives, and no more tempting male living with me.

But what if Kohaku were to come back? Well, I was sure that he wouldn't mind, if it saved my life. And after my

vacation was over with, I could find a quiet, small town to call my new home. Maybe I could find another cat

friend for Kirara, and we would be one, small, happy family.

It was going to be tough, that much was obvious. First, I would have to stop by the DeVere building and take

some of the money I had left in my office out of the vault, and I had to do it without Miroku figuring out what I

was doing there, since I hadn't paid the company a visit in months. Second, I had to get a new car. The Jeep was

too visible and recognizable. Mike would help me out there; maybe let me trade it in for one of the cars he

tinkered with in his free time. I could tell Miroku that the Jeep conjured up horrible memories of my almost fatal

accident, which was partly true.

My third task would prove to be the hardest. I had to pack my things and escape from the apartment without

Miroku knowing of it or following me. He would already be suspicious of my visit to DeVere Corp. and of the

new car, so he would probably watch me like a hawk afterwards. I would need a good, believable distraction.

I felt slightly sick while sitting there, watching the rain and mentally planning on a scheme to trick Miroku. He was

only doing his job, and he did it very well. It would be cruel to let him think I had been kidnapped, but I would

send him word as soon as I arrived in my new place that I was fine, and that he didn't have to worry anymore, and

his check was in the mail and would arrive soon.

It could, and would all work out, because it had to.

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I absolutely hate thunderstorms. Some people like them, think they're cool, but for me, they are a constant bad

reminder of my past. It had been storming the night Marisa had died.

Marisa Walker had been a sweet, bubbly young woman who had pranced into my office wearing a pair of bright

pink heels, tossing back her crazy mane of blond curls, and searching for a job. Even though I didn't really need a

secretary, Marisa had been so demanding and excited, that I found myself writing her a check a week later. As a

secretary, she wasn't the best, but she tried and worked hard. I enjoyed watching her concentrate on what she was

typing, answering the endless questions she asked, and the fresh coffee she set out for me every morning. On

mornings when I didn't feel like going to the office, she literally yanked me from my bed and pulled me to the desk,

determined to be efficent. And before I knew it, I had fallen for her.

Our relationship had been unsteady at first, mainly because Marisa had been several years younger and wasn't sure

she wanted to date her boss. Finally convincing her with sad eyes and complaints about no one to spend time with,

we went on our first date, where I immediately fell in the mud in a brand new suit and we spent the rest of the night

dancing through the park while it rained. And after that, we were both completely hopeless, spending every

available minute with each other.

During this time, I had been approached by the police to help them find a serial killer who was terrorizing the area,

killing innocent women again and again. Marisa proved to be extremely helpful with my research, perhaps because

she offered the case a female point of view.

We were getting closer and closer to discovering the murderer's identity. Every day offered new evidence and

insight into the case, and the excitement tingled within me. Finding this killer would help elevate my agency. Only

two months had passed and I already ached to propose to Marisa, with a new house in the background as I got

down on bended knee. With the publicity that came from solving the case, more clients would come running with

their checkbooks in hand, and I could buy that house and pop the question.

And in one night, everything I had hoped and dreamed for came crashing down in the office I called my second

home.

Marisa and I were to meet at the agency for our date that night. She wanted to stay late, finishing up some

paperwork on one of the recent victims of the serial killings. She told me over the phone that she thought she was

onto something, a pattern, but she wanted to tell me the big news in person. I told her I'd bring dinner around eight,

and we could eat on the desk while she told me all about it. Little did I know that at 7:30, our very own serial killer

would see the light on in the office, see my Marisa walking around barefoot, watching the storm outside, and

reading aloud to herself, and see a sick opportunity for his next big murder. From that day on, I would always

wonder why. Why did Marisa trigger that imbalanced switch in his mind? Why did he have to walk by the office

at that moment? Why?

I arrived at ten minutes until eight and the man was lying on top of her broken, bloody, lifeless body, defiling her

even in death. I lost my mind, my sanity, and I nearly killed him myself. When the police arrived to investigate a

supposed 'domestic dispute', I was beating the famous serial killer's head against the floor, watching blood splatter

from his unconcious, twisted mind. It took four men to pull me away, and a KO punch in the face to control me.

As I came to, I was so grief-stricken that I stayed in the hospital for a week, not eating or speaking to anyone.

Everyone assumed that I had gone crazy, so I was kept under constant surveillance, just in case I decided to

attempt killing myself. And I did want to die, but I owed it to Marisa to stay alive and make sure that the monster

who took her life would suffer every day for every second of pain he inflicted on her. For every look of fear she

gave him as he tortured her. And then, suffer more. Upon being released from the hospital, I was notified that the

killer was unconcious, but in stable condition, and they had positively identified him from information that was left

in my office from the night Marisa was killed. He would stand trial when he was well enough, and no less than life

imprisonment was expected. I went home and screamed at the walls. I had wanted another shot at him, I had

wanted my gun with me this time. Any chance of revenge I had was now gone, and the feeling of something being

left undone haunted me.

Nightmares plagued my dreams for years. The thunderstorm, visions of blood, and my own screams of despair

refused to leave me. I had not gone to the funeral out of guilt, but I continued to visit the grave site, begging

Marisa's forgiveness for not being there when she needed me the most, holding the tombstone and pleading with

her to come back and for all of this to be a bad dream. But she never did, and as the years passed, my sadness

calmed but the anger remained. I wanted to drag the famous Daniel Schafer out of his life imprisonment and kill

him with my bare hands, as I had almost done that night. Nothing would bring her back or make it fair, but I

wanted to do something, anything, to make the guilt hurt less.

I did not get many clients after that, only a few from time to time. My violence was tossed around in the media

blitz over the serial murderer, and the police thought that I was now unstable and unreliable and made sure to

avoid me. So I drifted through the years, only working to keep gas in my car and food in my stomach, though, I

didn't really care if I was healthy or not. All I wanted was peace.

And then Sango rushed into my life as quickly as Marisa had. Initially, I took the job because seeing her pleading

face had reminded me of Marisa, and I felt that helping this girl could atone for the one I had failed. Now,

watching the rain slide down the windows at Sango's place, I realized that this girl was actually quite different from

Marisa, but I still felt strongly attracted to her. Was that being a traitor to Marisa's memory?

She would want me to go for what I wanted, as she always had. She would want me to be happy, I rationalized.

But, what do you think about all of this, Marisa? I could really use some heavenly guidance right about now.

I took a drink of the beer I had stashed in Sango's fridge and stared at the bleak sky outside. I didn't want to

admit it, but Sango's remark had stung. It reinforced the idea that she was angry with me for allowing the stalker

to attack her.

_"I employed you..."_

_"Go home if you want to..."_

But I knew I couldn't just leave her here all alone. I couldn't allow that freak to hurt her. I couldn't take the guilt.

I gulped, beer sliding down my throat, tasting sour and old.

I couldn't handle losing her again.

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A pinprick here, a pinprick there. A pinprick here brings blood everywhere.

I slowly pulled the picture from the bulletin board and stared hard at her. Oh yes, she would require thousands of

pinpricks to bring that cold, blue, blue blood from her cold, blue body. I was already beginning to see red. I could

already smell the bitter, metallic perfume. The time was drawing near. I could feel it in every nerve, driving me

forward to that black finish line where everything would be right again.

"Daddy?"

Momentarily brought back from my silent rejoicing, I glanced down at my four-year-old, Annabelle, giving her the

required fatherly smile.

"You know you're not supposed to come down into the basement, sweetheart. This is Daddy's room."

She blinked up at me innocently, clutching a worn stuffed rabbit to her chest.

"Who's dat pretty lady, Daddy?"

"This is an old friend of Daddy's," I explained, attaching the photograph back to the bulletin board.

"You must really like her... dere's lots of pictures."

Smiling gently, I lifted the sweet girl into my arms, creaking up the stairs as her soft arms circled my neck.

"I love you, Daddy."

"I love you too."

Using my foot, I closed the basement door.

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	5. My Private Detective Ch 5

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Review Response Time!!

-FlamingRedFox - I know, line breaks are needed. I've had trouble with the editor.. I think it has a grudge against

me, but I AM going back and putting in line breaks in the chapters, I promise! Yes, Sango's going to have to be

pretty crafty to get past Miroku, can she do it? Lol.. And the killer wouldn't put a bomb under her car, he has a

thing for drawn-out torture, so the bomb's too easy. Messy though. He is kind of an amateur, that's true, but

there's a reason for that. And Shippou as a villian? How deliciously evil! Thanks again for a long, wonderful

review!

-Sango0808 - ::Wiping tears from my eyes:: Thank you!! Whatta review! And yes, it's the line breaks again!

::pounces on editor and wrestles madly:: And I'll try and find that website again for ya, my sister probably

remembers it, then I'll email you the addy. Thank yoooouuuuuuu!!

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Story Progress: Chapter 5 obviously up, editing ALL chapters in ALL stories for line breaks, check out my

new Inu-Kag short story! - 1-1-05

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And now, back to our regularly scheduled program.

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My Private Detective Chapter 5

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Glass and steel, layer upon ritzy layer, made up the impressive height of the DeVere Corp. building. Sunshine

graced the incredible windows, scattering light in a million different directions above the city. Limousines and

Jaguars slowed to a stop at the gold-plated front doors, and distinguished looking men and women stepped out,

instructing their driver to park their vehicular status symbols elsewhere. People entered wearing business

suits, talking animatedly on cell phones, and clutching their laptop case in their hand as if it held the world inside.

No doubt, the building was a haven for the rich and the richer.

And it was exactly as it had been for many years.

Walking inside, I flashed a smile at the front desk as I walked past, watching as their faces gained recognition and

registered shock. It had been a while.

"No one ever told them that it is rude to stare, huh?"

Miroku shot a look in the clerks' direction, yanking down the brim on his hat. Regardless of anything I said, he had

insisted on coming with me to the office.

Approaching the bank of elevators, I noticed several women eyeing Miroku intently. With his dress shirt, slacks,

and hat, he looked as if he belonged, even if he was a bit rumpled. I think that was part of his appeal. Miroku

wasn't the slick, executive type, he was a real man, one that appeared to be rugged, mysterious, and dangerous.

Yes, extremely dangerous. Especially when we were alone in my apartment.

The two of us stepped into a vacant elevator, silent as the box began to rise towards the 50th floor. Light reflecting

off of the gold plating made everything look slightly unreal.

"Listen, Sango, I'm sorry about the other night. I shouldn't have just barged in like that, and with my gun-"

"It's ok," I interrupted, not wanting to hear about that night ever again. "I screamed, and you came to check on me.

End of story. Let's just forget about it."

With a slight look of confusion and relief, Miroku gave a curt nod, leaning against the elevator wall, his strong

arms crossed over his chest.

The lift seemed to take forever. Was it always this slow?

I shifted restlessly, escape on my mind.

But as if the air between us wasn't charged enough, Miroku straightened and approached me, eyes dark with an

unknown emotion.

With fairy light touches, Miroku's fingers grazed the bandage on my neck, a concerned smile tugging at the corner

of his lips. His closeness was alarming.

"I haven't asked you how you're feeling. Is it better?"

Was it ever. It only hurt sporadically, but after Miroku's touch, I doubted it would ever cause me pain again.

"It's fine," I answered breathlessly.

Without a word, Miroku's fingers shifted, sliding alongside my cheek, tender and caressing. His eyes followed

the path, as if memorizing a map and trying to determine where the final destination would be. Mouth slightly

parted, I could only stare, wondering what he would do next and praying that it would never end, that he would

never step away.

Then the elevator came to a stop and a bell signaled its arrival. With a sad smile, Miroku pulled away and

followed me through the sliding doors, all business once again. Numb, I led him down the hall to a pair of black

double doors, pushing them open to reveal the head offices of DeVere Corp., where heads turned, and people

rose to greet me.

"Miss DeVere! It's wonderful to see you," Mark Morrison, the head accountant exclaimed, casting curious looks

Miroku's way.

"It's good to see you too, Mark. Please, just continue with whatever you were doing before I barged in."

With a slight frown, Morrison took his seat and shuffled through a stack of papers piled high on his desk. Leading

Miroku further into the heart of the company, I greeted people all while keeping my office doors in view.

Angela Lancaster approached me, indignant. "Where have you been?! Didn't you get my emails?"

I laughed, her indignant pout cheering me up. "Sorry Angie, I've been so busy lately."

With an almost unnoticeable wink, and a knowing glance at Miroku, Angela said, "I just bet. Catch ya later, hon."

Tossing her hair over her shoulder and shooting a last appreciative look at Miroku's backside, she left.

Itching for silence and relief from the eyes following me, I unlocked the doors and entered my office. Yes, it was

my office now, but I could still see my father at his place behind the desk, commanding his empire.

Ceiling to floor windows made up the back wall of the office, making the space seem enormous. A plush burgundy

leather sofa and matching chairs gave way to plush cream carpeting, and the tall black bookcases complimented

the dominating cherry desk. Without hesitation, I lifted the landscape painting from its hook over the couch,

balancing my knees on the cushions.

"Monet, right?"

"Yes," I answered, turning the lock on the safe. "but it's just an expensive print."

With a resounding click, the safe door swung open to reveal a plethora of bills, numbering in the hundreds and

thousands. My father was quite frugal at times, and kept secret stashes of money 'just in case'. This time, I was

glad for it. Before, I had thought that maybe he was afraid of something, something that my young mind had no

clue about. Had he been scared? And if so, what had frightened him?

I quickly began to shove stacks of bills into the tote bag I had brought with me, trying to ignore Miroku's scrutiny.

"Well, well, if it isn't the returning daughter," came a booming voice from the doorway, signaling the arrival of Hal

Jenkins, the vice president of DeVere Corp.

Dropping the tote onto the sofa, I threw myself into a bear hug in Hal's open arms. He had been my father's best

friend in the world, and I had grown up calling him 'Uncle Hal' and waiting to see what present he would bring me

the next time he came for a visit. A big, burly man, Hal had iron gray hair and a mustache to match, giving him a

distinguished and slightly intimidating appearance. However, those who knew him best knew that he was a softy

underneath the polished exterior.

"Hal! Oh, I've missed you!"

"And you're a sight for sore eyes, Sango," he replied, hugging me fiercely. "About time you came to pay me a

visit, girl!"

Then his gray eyes settled on the man behind me and a strange smile crossed his features.

"And you brought someone with you, I see."

"Yes, Hal Jenkins, this is Miroku. Miroku, Hal Jenkins."

The men exchanged a brief handshake, and I could still see a trace of that smile on Hal's face.

"How's everything been, Hal?"

Settling into a chair, he sighed heavily. "Things have been good, except for a few incidents at one of the

warehouses. Someone, maybe some kids playing pranks, has been vandalizing the place, tearing apart shipments

and starting small fires. We've put more security around the building, and that seems to be helping for now.

Pain in the ass to clean everything up though."

I sighed, leaning against the desk. Like I didn't have enough to worry about. "As long as the setbacks are taken

care of, I don't see how it will interfere too much."

"It won't. The other warehouses are excellent on production this quarter."

And, as if on cue, in ran the head of the public affairs department, David Kaye, carrying a tray of coffees on one

hand and a large bag of chocolate bars in the other. David was famous in the office for bringing treats for

everyone, wearing outrageously colorful clothes, and hitting on every single male in the building under the age of

35, particularly Mark Morrison, whom he tried to take out every day of the week.

"Sango, darling, once I heard you were in, I went to get coffees and chocolate to celebrate!"

He froze in his tracks when he saw a young, handsome, suit-wearing man in the room.

"And who is your friend, Sango dear?"

Hal coughed and slightly shook his head when David glanced his way.

"Ohhhh... never mind, I see," he shrugged, handing me a plastic cup and chocolate bar, placing the rest on the desk

and taking his seat on the couch.

"It's good to see you, David. How have things been?"

"Peachy, peachy. Just the same as always, I'm afraid. Office needs a sweetheart like you in here more often."

I smiled, loving these two men who cared about my being at work. I had missed them, and they had missed me.

Gratitude swept through my chest and tears threatened.

"Unfortunately, I can't stay. I've got tons of things to do at home today." I needed to leave and leave now; every

second mattered in my plan for escape.

"Are you serious, darling?!"

"Already?"

I nodded and zipped the tote shut, slamming the safe door and returning the picture to its guardianship. Miroku

was awfully quiet.

"Don't worry, I'll come by again soon," I lied, feeling horrible. Giving the men each a quick hug, I followed them

out of the office and locked the door behind me.

"She comes by for five minutes! Geez, I feel unloved!"

"Please come visit us soon, Sango." Hal gave me another tight hug, then walked away, David nipping at his heels.

I tried to memorize the two at that moment, for when I would not be able to see them anymore.

I'd have to write them as soon as I was settled in my new place.

"They seemed nice," Miroku looked at me, eyeing the bag in my hands. "Want me to carry that?"

"I've got it, and yes, they are wonderful."

Leaving the office with Miroku, I could feel dozens of eyes boring into my back.

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Sango was up to something, that much was obvious. Why else would she come to her office, take as much

money as she could, then leave in a rush? Climbing behind the wheel of the Buick, I glanced at Sango in the

passenger seat, still clutching the bag. What was she hiding?

I started the car, pulling out of the parking lot and into the somewhat quiet streets. Everyone was at work it

seemed, and only a few cars dotted the road. The sun was peeking out from behind dark clouds left over from

yesterday's thunderstorm. It was a peaceful, normal day.

I had no idea what to say to Sango, so I kept my mouth shut, and thought my private thoughts. Yesterday, I had

spent hours reflecting on the situation at hand and pushing aside sordid memories of the past. I was with Sango

now, not Marisa, and I had to protect her with all my being.

And last night I had gone to visit Marisa's grave for the last time.

_-------------------_

_The rain continued to slide down my jacket, residing in the pools of water at my feet. The gravestone was _

_dark with precipitation; the flowers in the urn hanging limply under water weight. All around was quiet _

_and still as the drops fell on the markers of the dead._

_With wet eyes, I stared at her name permanently etched into the stone, as if it was a permanent reminder _

_that she was dead, really dead. No more wishing, Miroku. No more hoping. No more longing for _

_something that will never be again._

_The letters shot straight into my heart._

_"Marisa.." My voice sounded hollow and hoarse, coming from a place deep within that had been closed _

_for a long time._

_"I've been coming here for so long, Marisa, that I don't know what else to do. I can sit here and stare at _

_this marker for as long as I live and never feel you in my arms again. I can stand by this patch of grass for _

_as long as I want and I can bring you out of that coffin, but I cannot breathe life back into your lungs. _

_And I can keep hunting for revenge for you, but it will never be enough."_

_The rain fell down in sheets, soaking me through to the skin as if washing me clean._

_"Marisa," my voice cracked. "I think I've found someone else. Her name is Sango, and she needs me. I _

_know you would have liked her, she's sweet and kind, as you were. And Marisa, I'm thinking more and _

_more about a future with this woman. Am I betraying you by doing so? Am I forgetting you so easily?"_

_Kneeling by the stone slab, I traced her name with my finger, recalling a time when I traced her skin the _

_same way, memorizing through touch. It was easier to look at the stone rather than look at the ground it _

_marked. She was under there, alone._

_I placed my forehead against the gravestone. I tasted salt running down my cheeks onto my lips, but I didn't _

_care._

_"I can't come here anymore. I can't dwell in the past anymore, Marisa. I loved you, but I lost you, and that's _

_the reality that I need to face now. No more running away. I know you want me to live on and be happy, _

_and that's what I will do. I can't think of a better way to remember you than by trying to be happy again."_

_Placing fresh flowers in the urn, I stood, giving the grave one last, long look, unanswered questions_

_swimming in my head._

_"Thank you, Marisa."_

_And when I turned to leave, a warmth settled in me, and I swear I heard a quiet voice whisper to me _

_through the softly falling rain: _

_"Go to her"._

_-------------------_

I know Sango was wondering where I had gone last night and why I was so quiet today. It wasn't something I

would tell her yet. I would wait for the right time.

Holy shit.

The car wasn't braking as I approached a yellow traffic light, cars stopping all around me. I smashed my foot

onto the brake pedal, but it was useless. The Buick was headed straight for a red light.

"Miroku, look out!"

I turned the steering wheel hard to the right, the car careening wildly as I swerved to avoid merging traffic. I

avoided an accident and managed to continue on to the main road, but with no way to slow or stop.

"Miroku!" Sango's voice was terrified.

"The brakes are gone!"

I released the gas pedal in hopes that the car would lose speed, but to no avail. The Buick continued on a course

headed for disaster. As the old saying goes, my life began to flash before my eyes.

"Damnit!" I pulled on the emergency brake in a last attempt to stop the out of control heap of metal, but it wasn't

working either. As if the stalker would forget to also disable the emergency brake. The bastard had struck again.

Cars quickly wheeled out of my path as my fist pounded the horn, trying to warn innocent bystanders. Sango held

onto the door handle for dear life, eyes wide with sheer terror.

From behind a building, a school bus was fast approaching, filled with laughing schoolchildren.

"A bus!"

"I see it!"

With a quick swerve to the left, I missed the yellow bus, but was now headed straight for a telephone pole.

I sucked in air between my clenched teeth.

Sango screamed.

"HOLD ON!"

I turned the wheel as hard as I could, sending the car in a crazy tail spin. When the rear of the Buick slammed into

the pole, glass shattered everywhere, raining down on us. I made a frantic grab for Sango, and pulled her to my

chest just as my head hit the steering wheel with enough force to send me into a black unconsciousness.

--------------------------------------------------

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Reviews gratefully accepted and appreciated! Happy New Year!!

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	6. My Private Detective Ch 6

* * *

2-10 -

I have a present! Since my last chapter was so short, I am now uploading two, count em, TWO new chapters at once. Or just one really long chapter.. you decide. I'm in such a giving mood. School's been keeping me so busy, but I'm trying to update!

Oh yes, I'm also working on a website for my fanfiction, where I give updates, character bios, review responses, and possibly previews of new works or new chapters. Who knows, I may even have character sketches somewhere on there, one day. I am an art student, after all. I shouldn't be writing so much. I'm still working on the html code for the layout, but hopefully

it will be up soon, that is, if anyone wants to visit it. :sweatdrop:

If you like romantic, borderline fluffy fanfic, please read my 'Demonic Angel' INUKAG pairing!

Sorry, I'm a review whore. :ducks before a hand smacks her:

Enjoy!

REVIEW RESPONSES:

**Irasuto**:gasp: You just gave me a fiver! That'll pay for half of a volume of manga! TY:faints:

**Sango0808**: Hee! Still gotta email you that site..

**FlamingRedFox**: Whoo! I heart long reviews! Anyway, you know David? DAVID KAYE... and I had totally forgotten that David Kaye is Sesshy's VA.. can't imagine that voice coming from someone who likes guys. And suspense is my middle name, I live to write it! TY again!

**Kagome and Melly**:GLOMP: You guys suck:wedgie attack:

**Amane**: Yes, I kinda threw that new POV in out of the blue, eh? I figured the kids thing would tip off the readers though. TY for the review!

**mikogirl**: TY for the review! Sorry, but I have trouble emailing people with updates. The best thing to do would be to add this story to your favorites list to see when it is updated. Maybe someday I'll have an updating mailing list... ahh... maybe someday...

**Aubre**: Welcome new reader, and TY kindly for the review!

Now, on to the creamy caramel center:ducks:

* * *

My Private Detective Chapter 6

* * *

"Oh my gosh, are you two okay"

"What happened"

"What a horrible accident"

"Is she going to be all right"

I could taste blood, sharp and bitter, sliding down my cheeks and filling my lips. Everything was swirling around in a dizzy blur before my eyes, but I could make out a small crowd of strangers milling about in my vision, and I wondered why they had come. An accident? I must have hit my head, that much I knew, since I was seeing double of everything. And I was bleeding; was it bad? Why couldn't I feel any pain? Why was everything so dark? A pair of strong arms lifted me from the warm, soft place where I sat. I didn't want to move; where was I going? Everything suddenly became brighter.

Was it Miroku?

Then it hit me, all of it. The Buick, the post, the loud noise, someone screaming, glass everywhere.

But the shadow that stood over me was too tall to be Miroku. Where was he? Oh no, he couldn't!

With a cry, I shoved away from the stranger, only to fall forward onto the pavement where shards of metal lay scattered like snow. Ignoring the knifelike pieces, I called out to Miroku, my voice high and strained.

"Mir- Miro...M"

A wave of nausea engulfed me, and I prayed that it would leave. I had to find him!

"Sango, calm down, please.."

A familiar voice came from somewhere above, and I swatted at it, frustrated. Go away!

"Where... Mir..."

He wasn't answering. The crushed form of the car was in front of me, but I had trouble seeing it clearly. People swarmed around it, and a few looked down in my direction with concern. Where was Miroku, and why didn't he say something! Why wouldn't this crowd take me to him?

I had to get up, I had to move. I had to go help him.

Forcing myself up with shaky arms, I blinked hard at the vehicle, willing it to stay still in my eyes. Blood from my cut lips splattered the ground below and slid through my fingers as a violent cough overtook my body, but I ignored it and managed to get to my feet, staggering unsteadily to the ruined heap. A dark form lay hunched over the steering wheel, unmoving and silent.

"Please... Miroku..."

"Sango, it's okay, help is coming."

Turning slowly, gray eyes stared back at mine, filled with worry, and strong arms opened to welcome me back safely.

"He's going to be all right, I promise."

I tried to swivel and look at the car once more, but my shaky legs finally gave, and I collapsed into the arms that awaited.

"You promise..."

"Yes, I promise."

Looking up into the dreary, gray clouds swirling above, I prayed.

* * *

Which door should I take? And why did I have to choose a door?

Where the hell was I?

Staring blankly, I tried to choose between the two, identical wooden doors that beckoned from both sides. Left... right... Left... right...

I mean really, what was the difference anyway?

With a determined twist of the knob, I shoved open the door to my right. Dark shadows that somehow resembled human limbs were twisting and turning in the hazy black fog. Wispy tendrils of smoke escape through the doorway, followed by small, gasping sounds of pain. I could feel a strange, echoing pulse vibrate in my chest. The room was alive with...

But, there was...

A pair of pale, delicate hands reached towards me, pulling a blond figure with them forward from the void, twisting and revolving slowly.

"M... Marisa"

"_Miroku_..."

I could reach her. I could touch her again. I could be with her. She smiled at me, a sad pulling back of the lips that didn't expose her teeth. She was so pale, it wasn't right. But it was her, I was certain. And just when my fingers began to drift towards hers, she was drawn back into the emptiness with a violent, bloodcurdling scream.

"MARISA"

An invisible force propelled my body backwards and the door slammed shut with a hollow bang. I was sprawled on the cold white floor, stunned to the core, gasping for air.

What had I just seen? It had all happened so quickly..

Well, you have what's right, then you have what's left, I thought. I opened the door to my left cautiously, wondering, hoping, I would find Marisa behind it again.

A worn desk stood in front of the small set of windows. Used mystery novels filled the bookcase, and a faded black chair sat nearby. The floor lamp cast a soft yellow glow in the room.

Why the hell was I back in my office?

I slowly walked into the familiar environment, curious as to what the quiet background noise was. The window confirmed my suspicions; it was raining. The streets were black as pitch and slick with water. A lone street lamp cast a figure beneath it in shadow. Water streaked violently down the glass panes.

Oh please.. no..

It was already too late. I could already see what was coming next.

The door creaked and a skirted figure entered carrying a stack of folders and twirling a piece of her hair around her finger. She hummed her favorite tune from that month as she sat on the desk and began to thumb through papers, glancing at the rain with a smile from time to time.

My heart caught in my chest. Dammit Marisa, you forgot to lock the door!

"Marisa, the door"

No acknowledgment. Marisa started to pace in front of the window while reading aloud to herself.

"So, the guy only goes for young, twenty somethings, but has targeted them in completely different areas. He's killed once near an apartment building, once in the subway, once in a business office..."

It was happening, and I was tagging along for the ride. I was going to relive this night yet again, even after I had tried so hard to put it behind me.

Frantically, I started for the door, but my body froze in its place. The same invisible force that had shoved me from the first room now held me against my will in this one. I must be dead. I must be in hell. How many times had I warned her to lock the damn doors!

"No.."

Helpless, I watched the door open to reveal a slight man wearing a rain slicker and holding a small object behind his back.

"Please, let me out of here! I can't see this" I pleaded.

Marisa's head turned and her eyes widened like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. The papers fell from her hands. Rain beat against the windows.

"I love that look, that look you all get when you see me. That look that says you know. You

know what's coming, and you know you are powerless to stop it."

His voice was shaky with excitement.A mad gleam lit up his brown eyes as he approached, sliding the knife back and forth in his palm, enjoying the smooth feel of the blade. Screams erupted from the woman's mouth as she backed into the window, absolute terror overtaking her entire being.

"Yes, scream. I love it when you scream. And no one can hear you, they're all gone. All gone."

I tried to shut my eyes, but found that I couldn't. Forced hell.

"LET ME OUT! I CAN'T WATCH THIS" I yelled to no one.

A gasp interrupted the screaming and blood sprayed the floor with an echoing patter. The blade sliced through the air again, flashing red and drawing cries of pain. Malicious laughter rang in the air with each new spray of red, red blood. Puddles began to form, on the floor, on the desk, on the scattered papers. The bitter smell hovered in the air. My eyes were on fire and all I wanted to do was rip them from their sockets. He pulled her to the desk, shoving aside the things littering its surface. With a shove, she was sprawled over the wood, bleeding and sobbing as he began to cut her clothing off.

"STOP IT! STOP IT NOW YOU BASTARD"

No matter how much I yelled, it continued. And continued. And continued. Slowly, I realized that I was able to move my body again. Propelling myself forward, I was prepared to kill this man who was torturing the woman I loved, but it was as if I fell right through him. Not one fist made contact. Not one scream was heard. But hers never ceased.

"MIROKU! PLEASE... AGGGHHH! Please, h-help ME"

"Scream, scream some more"

"MIROKU"

"He's not here to save you"

"Please... MIROKU! DADDY!... KOHAKU"

Stunned, I turned, and it was long, dark hair that slid over the wooden desk. Coffee colored eyes were wide with terror and filled with tears. Blood flowed from the many open wounds, soaking everything nearby. Moans of pain escaped her lips. My jaw dropped in horror.

"SANGO"

To complete the hellish nightmare, I could feel the hands pulling me again towards the door as I watched the madman brutalize Sango's body on the desk.

"SANGO, NO! SANGO"

"...Miroku..."

"SANGO! LET ME GO, DAMN YOU" I screamed as hard as I could.

"Miroku..."

"SANGO" I struggled against the invisible foe, trying desperately to rip myself from its grasp.

"Miroku"

White, bright light was approaching me. I stopped fighting and welcomed it with open arms.

Please, just let me die again.

Anything to escape this hell.

* * *

"Miroku"

Worry lines appeared on my forehead as I watched the sweaty, pale man struggle on the hospital bed. His face was contorted with pain, his hands clutching the white sheets like he was trying to strangle something.

"... Sango"

He was calling me?

Taking a few tentative steps, I stood over his bandaged form, tears filling my eyes. He was still unconcious, and it looked like the pain medication wasn't working very well. His brows came together in frustration and his eyes were closed tightly. Air hissed between his clenched teeth.

"Let me go..."

"Miroku" I ran a hand over his sweaty bangs, careful not to touch the bandage underneath them. "You're just having a bad dream. Please wake up."

"Sango.." His scratched hand rose from the bed and trapped mine on his cheek, warming it.

"Are you..."

"Yes, I'm awake." His voice was hoarse and unfamiliar. He sounded... relieved?

Blue eyes opened, leaking wetness that slid onto my palm. His lips were trembling, and his hand shook under my own. I thought I saw fear in his gaze, but it disappeared when our eyes met.

"It was just a dream.." His tears frightened me.

"W-Where am I"

"The hospital... again. Do you remember what happened"

"...accident..."

"That's right" I used my free hand to place a cold rag on his other cheek. "The car accident."

"How's... Buick...?

"It's totalled, Miroku."

Silence.

"Anyone else..."

"No, just us. No one else was hurt."

"Are you all... right" He was having trouble forcing the sentences to leave his mouth.

"I'll be fine, you just rest and don't worry about me."

"I have... to worry... my job.." A faint trace of a smile appeared on his battered face.

"Shh... just rest."

He weakly squeezed my hand and closed his eyes again, sleep coming to him swiftly. His chest rose and fell rthymically. His features calmed.

Miroku had barely survived the accident. When I had come around again, I was in a hospital room, bandaged and bruised, but able to talk and think clearly. They told me that he was in critical, but stable condition. The concussion was severe from the blow he suffered when his head slammed into the steering wheel. His right leg was broken, as was his left arm that had been smashed by the pole crashing through the driver side car door. Numerous scrapes and gashes dotted his body, and he was weak from blood loss. When I could finally see him 15 hours later, I gasped at the sight of his broken body in the sterile white hospital room. The man who was always so real and alive was lying under a jungle of tubes and hospital monitoring equipment, frail and pale.

It was a miracle that he had even survived.

I don't know how many hours I spent watching him from the chair at his bedside. Hospital personnel tried desperately to make me return to my own room, but I refused. Miroku had become this way because of me, and I yearned for the chance to help him in any way possible.

That bastard had almost killed us. He used the same damn trick again, but it was Miroku who suffered this time. Nothing the psycho had done to me could compare to this. I had to leave. I had to get out of town and away from Miroku before something much, much worse happened to him. I couldn't stop thinking about how this was all my fault.

As soon as he was released, I told myself. Soon.

Leaning over, I planted a light kiss on Miroku's hot cheek and backed away to the door.

"He needs his sleep. Poor guy, that accident was rough on him. Want me to walk you back to your room" came the deep voice from the doorway.

"Thanks, I would appreciate it, Michael" I said, smiling and following him out.

* * *

Opening my eyes, I shot a cold glare at the closing hospital door.

So, good old Mike Kensington had come to save the day again.

With a wince, I pulled my body into a sitting position, gasping at the pain in my head. I could have sworn I heard some stitches come apart. I hadn't experienced this much physical pain in a long time. My old body wasn't used to it anymore. With an annoyed groan, I noticed the cast on my left arm and the small one that covered the calf on my right leg. Damnit. Those might slow me down.And my head felt like it was going to crack open at any second. It was almost unbearable.

But not as bad as being treated like a helpless medical case.

I grabbed the hand buzzer and rang for the nurse. Pills were needed. Now.

A nice, older woman entered my room carrying a pitcher and smiling, concerned.

"You rang, sir"

"Yeah, could I get some pain medicine, please"

"Sure thing. I bet that head's killing you" she replied, opening a nearby cabinet and returning with a large bottle of aspirin in hand.

"Is it ever. I really appreciate this."

"No problem."

She handed me four pills and a glass of water, and I downed them gratefully. I needed to be able to concentrate on the matter at hand, not my body's obvious discomfort.

So, the killer was moving in for his prey. He was cocky, using the same trick twice. Damnit, I should have seen it coming! I checked the Buick everyday, but I thought he hadn't realized that it was my car. I parked it a safe distance away from Sango's building and in a private garage at the office. He must have been watching us like a hawk, day and night. He was very, very good at what he did.

Still, I thought I had checked the Buick. Had I forgotten today?

Maybe I had been worrying too much over Sango's odd behavior to remember it. Wait, I thought, rubbing my head gently. I know I checked it, this morning in fact. Before we had left for DeVere Corp. I had examined the vehicle carefully before entering it.

So that meant the stalker had screwed with the car while it was at DeVere Corp., or else we would have

crashed before reaching the office.

But how could he? The Buick had been parked inside the building's attached garage that was manned by security guards. Too many Jags and Beemers in there to risk anything getting stolen.How did he get past security? Everyone had to show an identity tag to the guard stationed at the entrance before they could drive inside.

Did the guy have a DeVere Corp. I.D. tag?

Did the psycho WORK at DeVere Corp.!

I tried to remember everyone we had passed in the building during the visit. Mark.. Angela.. Hal Jenkins.. David Kaye..

Could one of them tamper with a car like that? What motives did they have to kill Sango? From all accounts, the stalker was a man, so I mentally crossed Angela's name off the list of possible suspects. Jenkins.. he was V.P. With Sango gone, he would rule the corporate empire of DeVere without having to get her approval on anything. David and Mark didn't seem to have a motive, unless they harbored a grudge against her. Something about Mark had seemed unfriendly earlier. But Hal seemed to be the only one who would benefit from her death. And something bugged me about Mike. He was an expert mechanic, this stunt would have been simple enough for him to pull off. Kensington was also conveniently at the scene of the accident to come to Sango's rescue. In my hazy memory, I can still remember seeing his face as he pulled Sango out of the car and from my arms. One of the few moments when I had regained conciousness.

So I had a few suspects, but I couldn't just rely on my suspicions. The killer could be someone else entirely. I needed to dig deeper into Sango's past and the history of the DeVere Corporation if I wanted to find anything, not chase after the few suspects I had in mind.

But first I had to get out of this stupid, uncomfortable hospital bed!

With a groan, I placed one bare foot on the ice cold floor, grimacing at the stabs of pain that shot up through my leg.

"Sir, you can't get out of bed" the nurse yelled, trying to push me back down.

"Get off me, I can get up just" I sucked in air when the other leg came down "-fine."

"Get back in bed now, you are seriously injured! You're in critical condition"

"Where is Sango DeVere's room? I'm going there now." Grabbing a crutch that lay against the wall, I supported my right side on it and headed for the door.

Critical condition? Please.

"You can't"

"I'm leaving. Now, you can either tell me where her room is, or I can find it myself."

* * *

Pleasantview... now that sounded pleasant, to say the least.

Propped up against several hard pillows, I leafed through the travel brochures that lay spread out on the hospital bed. The one from a small town called Pleasantview caught my eye, since the handout made it seem very quiet and friendly. Maybe I should go there. Ignoring the sadness pushing for release in my heart, I closed the papers and sighed. I couldn't ignore the facts anymore. I didn't want to go. But there really was no other way. If I stayed here any longer, Miroku might-

Hearing the door open, I shut my eyes, hoping that the doctor or nurse would think me to be asleep and just leave me alone. Warm fingers grazed my arm, and I mentally pleaded with whoever it was not to take another blood sample. I was sore enough already.

"Sango..."

Oh.. my..

My eyes flew open to see a pale faced Miroku standing by my bed, looking tired but resilient. He clutched the crutch at his side tightly, but tried his best to make his face look tough. It reminded me of a little boy who wanted to show his mother that he could go outside and play,despite falling out of a tree the day before.

_"But Sango, I can drive, I'm just fine! Let me drive the Alfa today, please"_

Pushing the memory to the back of my mind, I focused on Miroku.

"What are you doing out of bed"

"Coming to get you."

Please, don't let my blush be that obvious!

"Why... What..."

His eyes narrowed.

"Planning on a trip anytime soon"

Oh, damn.

I tried my best not to look at the shiny tourist brochures that were in my lap like a pile of evidence that pointed at me and screamed guilty.

"No, I wasn't. Is it because of the brochures? The hospital is severely lacking in reading material, let me tell you."

I didn't think he'd buy it for a second, though I had to try.

Miroku's stare was hard, but he didn't push the issue.

"Grab your things, we're leaving."

"But, you're hurt.. your car.."

"The car's taken care of, grab your things."

* * *

"Hell, man, when you called me, I almost fell out of my chair! It's been, what, a year? Two? Hellfire, I didn't expect to see you, and certainly not like this! What trouble didja get yourself into this time, huh"

Hackner had a mouth on him, and a big one at that. If my arm didn't hurt so badly, I would have socked him.

Sango was silent in the backseat. It was no surprise, she was probably still shocked at our sudden, hasty exit from the hospital. I hoped she wasn't angry with me for screaming at the hospital personnel that tried to stop us.I couldn't stand being treated like a hospital patient.

We now sat in Hackner's purring Lexus, gliding gracefully and comfortably towards Sango's place. It was true, Paul Hackner hadn't heard from me in over a year, but I always had his number on hand, just in case. He was one of the few people in the P.I. business that I knew and actually tolerated, even if he was talkative and hyper. He and David would get along real well.

I had to bite back a grin at that. Hackner would kill me if he could read my thoughts.

The pain medication was beginning to take effect, and I begged the powers that be to not let me fall asleep in the car. We had to get back to the apartment and I had to stay awake. I knew what those brochures meant.

Sango was planning on an escape. I could feel it in the way she stayed silent in the car, staring out the window. She had been found out, and now she was trying to think of a way to get away from me.

Sango was running. The thought of her leaving hurt, but the fact that she didn't think that I could protect her was much more painful. She felt that she had to run to be safe. Of course, after the incident with the Buick, I can't say that I blamed her. I should have been more careful, more cautious. No more excuses.

"Damn, you're both so quiet! Not a peep! I mean, of course you're both tired from the accident, but still... Oh, I heard all about the accident, not too far from my office actually. Crazy, crazy. But of course, some cars just have problems like that, I guess."

"Yeah, some do."

Paul looked over at me with green eyes that were stunned by my sudden verbal communication.

However, I could see the suspicious glint in his stare that said what words could not. He knew I would never allow an incident like that to happen, unless it occurred due to an outside force.

And every P.I. knew what an outsider meant.

"Yes, some do. That's why I bought my Lexus, I figure, hey, if it's this expensive, it should be well made, right? And I must say, it's easy to take care of. You should get yourself one, Miroku. Use some of that reward money from catching the stalker on it. What'd you get, five hundred G's at least"

How I wished my left arm was working properly so I could have shut him up. I knew that he was only trying to distract Sango's mind from the accident, but still. He had to go and let that slip. I could already sense Sango's questioning gaze directed at the back of my head.

"Something like that.."

"Yeah, buy yourself an expensive, well made car and a bigger office. Maybe a bigger apartment and stuff too? You can certainly afford it"

Sometimes he went on like this; just didn't know when to stop.

When Hackner parked the car, I got out as quickly as the casts allowed. They weren't too big or cumbersome, but I still wasn't used to them. I had already gotten rid of the blasted crutch. At least I would still be able to move swiftly and handle a gun.

"I called what's-his-name for ya, Miroku, so a replacement car should be here shortly" Hackner said, helping Sango out of the Lexus and holding her hand for a bit longer than necessary, I noted.

I knew he would have taken her case immediately. Thank goodness she came to me first.

"Thanks, Hack."

"I told you I hate to be called 'Hack', Miroku! It makes me sound incompetent. Call me Paul, geez."

Pulling him aside, I gave him a look.

Leaning closer, he whispered"Yeah, I blurted it out. I figured if she knew you were rich, she might give you a chance. Sorry. It's just that I haven't seen ya with a woman in a long time, and"

"Again, thanks Hackner. I'll see you later."

Pausing, Paul dropped the subject, registering the clenched fist beside my crutch.

"If you need... well, anything, just give me a ring" he said pointedly, climbing back into his pricey car and driving off.

Walking a curious Sango inside, I whispered quietly into her ear.

"He really is a hack, you know."

* * *

The tips of my ears still tingling from the sensation of Miroku's breath, I sat on the couch and prepared for the talk he was going to have with me.

We both knew that I had been caught, and now I was going to get it.

He walked over to the stereo across the room and looked at a few of my cds. The way he was moving, I knew he must have been extremely worn out, but he refused to rest. After making several phone calls, he had looked through some old DeVere company files, making notes when necessary. I recognized several of the names he had highlighted, which included

old and new ones from the Board of Executives. I had done nothing but pace my room, waitingand waiting, and now we were finally going to have the talk.

Pressing buttons on my entertainment system, I recognized a song playing quietly through the speakers. I had forgotten that I still had that cd.

_"I feel like a song without the words_

_A man without a soul_

_A bird without its wings_

_A heart without a home_

_I feel like a knight without a sword_

_The sky without the sun_

_cuz you are the one"_

I knew my face must have been completely red. Did he choose this song on purpose? Then I had to stop myself from laughing aloud at the thought of Miroku listening to this type of music at his office.

Miroku turned and looked at me. Just looked. His face held no anger, sadness, or regret. He just stared. Color was beginning to return to his face, his shoulders were straight, and the casts looked like they had been placed on a completely healthy man. I felt uncomfortable being watched, so I began to mindlessly ramble.

"Are you feeling okay? I'm sorry about what happened today, it was all so crazy..."

_"I feel like a ship beneath the waves_

_A child who's lost its way_

_A door without a key _

_A face without a name_

_I feel like a breath without the air_

_And every day's the same_

_since you've gone away"_

It was as if Miroku was speaking to me through the lyrics of the song, as if I had already made my escape. It was actually slightly eerie.

He walked closer and sat beside me on the sofa, quiet as a mouse. Wasn't he mad?

"... your friend Hackner seemed like a nice guy, coming to get us at the hospital on such

short notice."

"You want to know about the money, right"

"Well, no, I"

So, we were cutting straight to the chase tonight, I see.

"And you wanna know why I haven't spent it."

"No, I"

"I've kept it aside because I had a dream for that much money a while back, but I didn't have it then. Not even close. But I had plans for the money that I would get from catching that serial killer and getting the reward."

All I could do was blink at him, wondering how he could sound so emotionless about something that must have hurt him very deeply.

"I was going to buy a house with the money. But after the dream of mine fell apart, I couldn't, but I've kept the money in my bank account, untouched. Who knows, maybe I was waiting for the chance to buy a house to come again. "

Slowly, Miroku placed his hand in mine. His eyes were dead serious, but he seemed...

...nervous?

"Maybe... I was waiting for a reason to."

"_I gotta have a reason to wake up in the morning_

_You used to be the one that put a smile on my face_

_There are no words that could descibe how I miss you_

_And I miss you... every day"_

What on earth was happening here! The music... Miroku...

He grabbed my hands when he felt me try to pull away.

"I know what you were trying to do, Sango, and all I can ask you is to please reconsider. I realize that I screwed up today and you think that I can't always protect you like I should, but I want you to know that I won't let him near you ever again as long as I'm by your side."

"You couldn't help what happened today! How could you have known"

His blue, blue, impossibly blue eyes stared into mine like he was trying to etch his words into my head.

"I went to the graveyard yesterday and said goodbye to Marisa."

I couldnt help the shock that widened my eyes. He had said goodbye.. to his Marisa?

"Why'd you say goodbye to her? There is no goodbye.. that doesn't make"

"Because she will never be back, and I've realized that. Do you remember me crying at the hospital"

Silent, I nodded. The look of despair that was behind those tears would never leave me.

"It was because of a nightmare I was having. Marisa was there, but... I wasn't crying because of her. I've already known for a long time that she's gone. No, it was because you were there, Sango. And the thought of losing you was what was scaring me the most."

_"And I'm never gonna leave your side_

_And I'm never gonna leave your side_

_I am still holding on girl_

_I won't let you go_

_Cuz when I'm lying in your arms, I know I'm home"_

I prayed and prayed and mentally prayed that I wouldn't faint from shock then and there.

The man I loved was confessing to me that he loved me too!

What were you supposed to do in a situation such as this? Scream and hug him? Cry? Kiss him? All three?

Of course, I hadn't heard the 'L' word just yet.

I felt like a schoolgirl who had absolutely no clue about boys.

_"They tell me that a man can lose his mind_

_Living in the pain_

_Recalling times gone by_

_And crying in the rain_

_You know I've wasted half the time_

_And I'm on my knees again_

_'Til you come to me"_

Tears unwillingly escaped my eyes and started making tracks down my face. Dammit, the music was getting to me! I cursed Miroku for turning it on and now saying these things..

But.. he had said goodbye to her...

Before I had even met Miroku, the well-known super serious private detective, I had known about Marisa. And I had known that the two of them had been deeply in love, the kind of love that people like me only dreamt about. When he had lost her, Miroku had lost himself. Even the newspaper reporters who had covered the serial killer's capture had realized that. But

now, Miroku was saying that she was in his past, gone forever, and he had put it behind him.

And in the hospital bed, it had been me he had shed tears for.

Using the back of my hand, I swiped at the drops leaking from my eyes. Here was this super serious man telling me very serious, sensational, romantic things, and I was already starting to lose it.

I had to face it, I had already lost it long ago.

Miroku's finger traced my lips gently.

"Does this hurt"

I realized that my mouth must have looked horrendous to him, being so badly bruised from

when the lips had split in the crash. The bleeding had finally stopped after an hour or so.

"No, it doesn't really hurt me anymore, the pain medicine"

Before I knew what was happening, Miroku was moving closer and placing his lips on mine, his hand sliding gently to my cheek, his breath tickling my face.

"_I gotta have a reason to wake up in the morning_

_You used to be the one that put a smile on my face_

_There are no words that could describe how I miss you_

_And I miss you... every day"_

I could feel my heart release a well of longing that had been pent up inside for too, too long.

He had done exactly what I had hoped he would do.

Miroku's lips were warm and inviting, mixing with my tears like we were sealing a promise with our mouths. His right hand slid to my back and pulled us closer as our kiss deepened, gaining intensity. There was no going back this time. Miroku had laid his hand on the table and the cards that were dealt us were in full view.

No regrets.

With gentle hands, he pulled me off of the couch and began guiding me towards the bedroom, never releasing his hand from my back or moving his lips from mine.

"Miroku... your casts..."

"Sshh, as long as they don't bother you, I'm fine."

My eyes looked into his lazily as my lips moved towards his once more.

"Okay..."

Quietly, Miroku shut the bedroom door.

_"And I'm never gonna leave your side_

_And I'm never gonna leave your side_

_I am still holding on girl_

_I won't let you go_

_Lay my head against your heart_

_I know I'm home"_

* * *

Kudos to whoever recognizes the song playing in the background!

And yes, it's a real song..

Until next time, cheers!


End file.
